A Tragic Circle
by ShagsTheDustmop
Summary: A new prophecy tells of the only one who can help The Boy Who Lived defeat the Dark Lord -- but he's already dead! Time is twisted to fulfill the Prophecy, but at what cost?
1. The Beginning?

Hermione Granger stifled a yawn as she pored over her arithmancy homework. Only six weeks into her sixth year at Hogwarts, and already she was driven to suffer all-night study sessions in an attempt to keep up with her excessively heavy courseload. As she rubbed the sleepiness from her eyes for the umpteenth time, she wished she'd been blessed with a Ravenclaw's natural knack for understanding material, so that she wouldn't need to work so hard to achieve the depth of knowledge she craved. It was the desire for knowledge that drove her, not the act of studying. She wasn't crazy; if she could learn what she wanted to without the long hours of study, she would.

She looked over toward where her roommates, Lavender and Parvati slept. Parvati was dead to the world, and Lavender snored lightly as the two of them enjoyed the untroubled sleep of those whose greatest worry in life was whether their hair was in place and whether their boyfriends were faithfully devoted to them. Neither of her roommates ever put mundane things like homework ahead of their social lives, and honestly they seemed none the worse as a result. Other girls were more like Lavender and Parvati than like Hermione – Hermione's 'unnatural' devotion to her studies earned her an inside-joke status throughout Gryffindor House. Every so often, being so different made Hermione wonder if perhaps she should try to be more . . . normal. Tonight was obviously going to be one of those nights. Hermione tried to push such depressing thoughts aside as she struggled to concentrate on Professor Vector's assignment.

"Tap-tap-tap." A noise at the window startled Hermione out of her studious reverie. An unfamiliar small, black owl was perched on the ledge outside, tapping furiously on the pane.

Afraid the noise might wake the others, Hermione hurried to let the bird inside. As soon as the window cracked a bit, the bird shoved his way through and rushed towards Hermione, extending a knobby leg towards her. Hermione gently removed the small scroll that had been taped there and began to read.

"_Hermione,_

_ Perhaps it is sheer folly to write this to you, but given the circumstances I find myself unable to give a damn. You are, I am sure, perplexed as to why I am writing you at all. No doubt the answer will soon become apparent and I do not wish to disrupt the fabric of time, space, and mystery by delving into it now. I can only say that one indulges in ridiculous flights of fancy when faced with their own mortality. The only thing that interests me now is that this is my last chance to share with you the words that have been building up in my mind for nearly twenty years._

_ Why am I passively accepting my fate, willingly walking toward it like a lamb to its slaughter? I could choose to fight the inevitable, shirking my duties toward Professor Dumbledore and mankind and just refuse to go. I will not do so, however. I have learned, primarily from you, Hermione, that sometimes one just does what one must, at great personal sacrifice, for a greater good. _

_ I must confess though that my intentions are not wholly pure. I die not for the greater good but to escape a greater pain. For six years I have watched you grow from an annoyingly self-superior child into the image of the woman I have loved in vain for twenty years. Fear not, I know you can never be mine, but I can not bear to look upon you any more. The irony of the situation would amuse me were it not my heart being ripped apart and torn asunder. But it will be over soon. And you will understand someday the truth of which I write and you too must not be afraid do what you have to do, just as I am doing now. _

_ Farewell, dear Hermione._

_ Severus Snape_"

Of the many emotions passing through Hermione as she read, confusion was the greatest. What on Earth was he talking about? Had he gone mad? She reread the letter. Part of it could not be mistaken – Professor Snape thought he was going to die. Whatever he was thinking when he wrote the letter could wait; she needed to show this letter to Professor Dumbledore now, while there might still be time.

Hermione pulled on her cloak and raced toward the Headmaster's office. It wasn't until she arrived that she realized that the Headmaster was probably fast asleep. So, she did the only thing she could think of – she started to scream.

"Professor Dumbledore! Please, wake up!" She ran up and down the halls shouting, thinking that maybe Filch would find her and summon the Headmaster to punish her impertinence at being out past curfew.

She did not, however have long to wait. Less than a minute after she began yelling, Professor Dumbledore himself came down the stairs from his office. He was fully dressed, and did not seem to have been awakened.

Hermione rushed over to him, holding out the letter. "Professor Dumbledore! I'm sorry to disturb you and I know I'm out past curfew but look!"

He took the letter gently from her and began to read. He paled slightly as he read, and his jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. He handed the scroll back to her. "Will you please come with me?"

"Of course," she answered, following the Headmaster up the stairs to his office. Madame Pomfrey was already up there, pacing back and forth. She looked expectantly at the pair as they entered, becoming dejected when Professor Dumbledore merely shook his head.

"What is going on?" asked Hermione, "The letter I got from Professor Snape makes no sense at all, save for the fact that he obviously thinks he is going to die."

Professor Dumbledore sunk down into his chair with a sigh, "You know of course that Professor Snape does important work for the Order, at great personal risk."

Hermione nodded.

"We recently received some . . .intelligence. . . of a Death Eater operation of some magnitude. Professor Snape volunteered to infiltrate the operation, with the intent to sabotage. Obviously, such a task was exceedingly risky; to observe is one thing, to interfere another. Were Professor Snape to be caught, his life would most certainly be forfeit. Despite the risk, he was insistent upon going. He led us all to believe that he was sure he would succeed. His letter to you belies that; apparently he did not expect to return from the operation."

Hermione gulped, "And he's there now, isn't he? That's why Madame Pomfrey is here, in case he comes back injured." 

"Yes," nodded the Headmaster. "He was due back several hours ago, I'm afraid." 

Madame Pomfrey, who had been silent throughout this exchange, continued her pacing as she muttered, "I told him this would happen one day, that eventually he'd slip up and no amount of magic would put him back together again. But did he listen? Of course not, he's the impervious Severus Snape!"

Hermione approached the nurse, soothing, "There's still hope, isn't there? We can't be sure that he didn't succeed after all?"

Clunk! The three turned their heads toward the stairs and the sound of heavy footsteps coming up into the office. Hermione and Madame Pomfrey raced to the door. It opened to reveal Hagrid, with tears in his beady black eyes, carrying the limp body of the Potions Master.

"I found 'im like this at the edge of the dark forest," sniffed Hagrid. "The bastards just dumped him."

"Quick! Let's get him to the infirmary!" shouted Hermione. Madame Pomfrey was already checking for vital signs.

"No time," the nurse responded, motioning toward the settee. "Hagrid, lay him down."

Once Snape was lying on the couch, Madame Pomfrey got to work. She unbuttoned his collar and leaned forward, trying to hear or feel his breathing. She placed one hand to his jugular, feeling for a pulse. 

"Damn it, Snape!" she snapped, pulling out her wand and casting a diagnostic charm on the still figure before her. A green cloud appeared for a moment above the Professor, and then dissipated into the air. The nurse fell to her knees and began to sob. 

"Madame Pomfrey?" whispered Hermione. "He's not . . ."

"I'm afraid so, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore had risen and came to stand beside Hermione, one comforting hand on her shoulder, another on Poppy's. "He was hit with the _Avada__ Kedavra_. There is nothing we can do for him now."

Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears and her stomach curl with shock. Even though she hadn't particularly liked the Professor, she admired him for the work he did for the Order. And it always hurt to see someone you know die, whether you liked them or not, leaving an empty place inside you where that person used to be. 

"Hagrid, could you please escort Miss Granger back to Gryffindor Hall?" requested Professor Dumbledore sadly. "Madame Pomfrey and I will take care of everything from here." 

Hagrid wiped his eyes on his sleeve, "Of course, Perfessor. Come along, Hermione."

Hagrid was uncharacteristically quiet as he walked Hermione back to her dorm. She herself didn't feel much like talking either. When they arrived back at the Fat Lady, Hagrid addressed her once before leaving. "A darned shame it is, Hermione. Perfessor Snape's been risking his life fer years, and almost no one even knows about it. They don't know what a fine man he really was. Well, g'night." Hagrid blew his nose again and ambled off, head lowered, to go home. 

Once inside, Hermione returned to her room. Lavender and Parvati were still asleep, oblivious to the loss Hogwarts had just suffered. The little grumpy black owl remained though, hopping anxiously toward Hermione as she entered. 

"I guess he told you to remain here, little one. I don't suppose there's anyone else to care for you now." She held up a finger towards him, he nuzzled against it gently. "I don't even know your name. I'll ask Professor Dumbledore tomorrow if he knows what it is." 

Hermione began disrobing for bed, only then noticing the scroll that she still clutched in her left hand. Professor Snape's last letter. She read it one more time, still not understanding most of what he said. She shook her head sadly, thinking what a waste it was that he had died. Not wanting her roommates to find the scroll, she opened the trunk containing her winter clothes and shoved it to the bottom. Maybe someday she'd understand, but for now, she just wanted to sleep.

*****

Hogwarts reacted to the death of its Potion Master with a mixture of shock and apathy. Despite Professor Dumbledore's moving speech about the sacrifice Professor Snape had made to save scores of Muggle-born children, most of the students were rather blasé about his passing.

At first people spoke very little, except to say how surprised they were he was gone. Then as the shock wore out the bravado returned, and many students were heard to indicate that Potions class was much more enjoyable without the Greasy Git. Ron Weasley enjoyed a very bruised shin after making such a comment in Hermione's presence, leading him to tease that he "didn't know she cared!" Although Hermione found no particular fault in the new Potions Master, Professor Norman, she couldn't believe so many of her friends and classmates were so quick to speak ill of the dead. She quickly learned though that to express such feelings led only to derision from her classmates, and thus began keeping her feelings to herself.

By the time several months had passed, people rarely spoke of Professor Snape at all, except for the occasional joke. Hermione herself found herself thinking of him less and less as she buried herself in schoolwork and her plans for the future. Ron finally grew the nerve to ask her out, and their romance was blossoming. Life just goes on.

*****

"Could you pass the potatoes, please, Filius?" The faculty were enjoying their dinner on the Thursday that the new prophecy was revealed. The House Elves had been gifted with a new cookbook from one of the muggle-born students, and faculty and students alike were enjoying the new cuisine.

"So, Rolanda, will you be willing to chair the Valentine's day Ball again this year?" asked Professor Dumbledore as he sampled some rather hot curry. "With assistance, of course."

"The ball will have an unexpected guest this year," mumbled Sibyll Trelawny.

Minerva glared at the diminuitive seer, "An unexpected guest? That's better than a death, I suppose."

"He's already dead," returned Sibyll simply. "Pomona! Leave some of the pudding for the rest of us, please!"

Minerva rolled her eyes and returned to her conversation with Professor Vector. Sibyll accepted the bowl of pudding from Pomona and began to spoon it on her plate.

Clang! The spoon dropped and Sibyll's eyes became cloudy. She began to speak in a voice not her own, deeper and more forceful than had been heard from her mouth, save two single times.

"The Boy Who Lived and the Man Who Knew He Would Not will blind the Dark Lord and the Last will be fulfilled. Time that is borrowed must be returned, or the innocent will perish. She Who Extracts the Key must also release it. The circle must not be broken." 

The faculty all turned to watch Sibyll with their eyes wide and mouths agape. Most had never seen Sibyll in the throes of a real prophecy, and it was a site to behold. Even Minerva, Sibyll's harshest critic, was moved by the site. Only Professor Dumbledore seemed unfazed, he merely listened attentively.

"Oh dear, I've made such a mess," whined Sibyll as she noted the pudding splashed all about her. "I knew it would happen, but I wore white anyway."

"Can you repeat that, Sibyll," said Minerva. "The part about the Boy Who Lived and blinding the Dark Lord?"

Sibyll laughed and shook her head. "Whatever are you going on about, Minerva? I was talking about the Valentine's Day ball. My inner eye tells me that you won't be doing much dancing, Minerva."

Minerva just looked at her in astonishment, until Albus caught her eye by shaking his head negatively. She looked at the Headmaster inquiringly, to which he merely mouthed the word, "Later."

****

Minerva and Albus sat in the Headmaster's office, drinking tea and pondering the prophecy. They'd already poured their experience into a Pensieve so as to maintain the words perfectly, and were now trying to make sense of them.

"The Boy Who Lived is obvious," said Minerva. "Everyone in our world knows that is Harry Potter. Poor boy is at the center of everything related to the Dark Lord, so that's no surprise. But who is the Man Who Knew He Would Not?"

Albus thought for a moment before speaking. "I have my suspicions, but they are highly farfetched."

Minerva snorted, "I'd be surprised if they weren't, Albus. Nothing to do with prophecy and He Who Must Not Be Named is straightforward."

"Soon after I became headmaster, I had a student take an extended leave of absence. He was gone six months but seemed to have aged much more than that. I'd attributed it to illness and stress, but now I wonder. . ." His voice trailed off into his own thoughts.

"What does that have to do with the Man Who Knew He Would Not," asked Minerva as she popped a lemon drop into her mouth. "Please, keep the riddles to a minimum."

"I can only think of one person who predicted his own death, though he tried to hide it from us. This same person wrote a very curious note to a . . .person. . .who understood not a word of it, a note that seemed out of place, or perhaps even out of time." 

"Enough prevaricating, Albus. Who are you talking about?"

"Why, Severus, of course," answered the Headmaster. 

Minerva's eyes narrowed, "Severus? I suspect there's an awful lot you haven't told me . . ." 

After Albus filled Minerva in on all the missing details the two sat and formulated their plan. Actually, it wasn't so much a formulation as it was a deduction of the plan – forces beyond them had formulated it, they merely had the clues as to what the plan was and needed to be sure they acted accordingly. A great sequence had been set in motion, with a start and an end that required strict compliance in order to avoid the disasters that could accompany messing with Time. 

Once they thought they had it down, they decided to consult a third. What they intended was highly illegal, despite its intent to further the greater good. They would need cooperation from inside the Ministry of Magic for their activities to remain unnoticed, and thus Arthur Weasley was invited for tea and serious discussion. Despite his natural misgivings, he agreed that drastic measures were necessary to stop He Who Must Not Be Named and further agreed to camouflage their dubious use of Time Turners from Ministry eyes. 

Plan designed, all that remained was to enlist the aid of She Who Extracts The Key. She, who was currently snogging young Ron Weasley in the Astronomy Tower.


	2. Precision

"Miss Granger," called Professor McGonagall after dismissing the Advanced Transfiguration class. "I'd like to speak to you for a minute, please."

Startled, Hermione nodded and approached her head of House.  "Yes, Professor?"

The elderly witch waited until all the other students had left before speaking. "After your last class today, would you please come to Professor Dumbledore's office to discuss a special . . . project requiring your assistance?"

"Of course, Professor.  I can come after Defense Against the Dark Arts, at half past three."

Professor McGonagall nodded, "That will be satisfactory.  Please be advised that this project is of a sensitive nature, and discretion is required."

"In other words, don't tell Ron and Harry?" asked Hermione with a smile.

"Exactly.  Thank you, Miss Granger.  You'd best be off to your next class."

Hermione had an unusual difficulty concentrating through the remainder of her classes that day.  Although strange and secret events often revolved around Harry, the only time she had to keep a secret from her friends was when she used the Time Turner to help augment her third year schedule.  But that adventure was brought on by her own desire not to trim down her class schedule.  This was a complete mystery.

Despite her woolgathering, her classes came and went and soon it was time to meet with the Headmaster.  The gargoyles apparently were expecting her, because they opened for her without waiting for a password.

She climbed the stairs to the Headmaster's office and was greeted by a larger number of people than she'd expected.  Aside from Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, Madame Pomfrey and Arthur Weasley were also present. Hermione greeted each in turn, then turned inquisitively to Professor Dumbledore.  "Professor McGonagall informed me that you have a project for me?"

The Headmaster motioned for her to be seated before replying.  "Yes, Miss Granger.  We have a matter of utmost urgency, a matter which requires very delicate handling.  For reasons which will be explained shortly, I'm afraid you must play a pivotal role in the proceedings."

"Miss Granger, do you remember the letter you received from Professor Snape the night he . . . left us?" asked the Headmaster.

Hermione nodded hesitantly, "It would be a hard letter to forget, sir."

"I understand the contents make little sense to you at present.  Honestly, I knew not what to make of them at the time myself.  However, events have occurred which have shed some light on the situation."  Professor Dumbledore popped a sherbet lemon in his mouth and sucked a moment before continuing.  "A short time ago, a new prophecy was made regarding Harry Potter and the Dark Lord."

Hermione's jaw dropped, "Another prophecy?  What did it say?"

"Rather than our telling you, it would be easier to show you."  Professor McGonagall handed Hermione a pensieve that had been sitting on the Headmaster's desk.  "Several of us witnessed the prophecy, and we quickly recorded it afterwards."

Hermione accepted the pensieve and eagerly dipped her hands inside.  She felt herself pulled into the memory of . . . supper in the Great Hall?  She was standing before the head table watching the faculty enjoy their supper.  She chuckled a little at the playful bickering going on, then listened in rapt attention as Professor Trelawney was overcome by her inner seer.  Afterward, she spun back to reality.

"The Boy Who Lived and the Man Who Knew He Would Not will blind the Dark Lord and the Last will be fulfilled. Time that is borrowed must be returned, or the innocent will perish. She Who Extracts the Key must also release it. The circle must not be broken."  Hermione repeated.  "What does that mean?"

"Think a moment, Miss Granger," encouraged Professor Dumbledore. 

Hermione bit her lower lip as she thought.  The Headmaster mentioned the letter from Professor Snape.  What does that have to do with . . . oh.

"Professor Snape knew he was going to die when he wrote the letter.  He's the Man Who Knew He Would Not," she reasoned.

The others nodded.  Arthur Weasley spoke next. "Very good, Miss Granger.  Now do you see what must be done?"

"When did you say this prophecy was made?" asked Hermione.  

"Several days ago," answered Professor McGonagall.

"So Professor Snape was already gone when the prophecy was made."  Hermione frowned.  "Well, unless we've a way of resurrecting the dead, I'd say for this prophecy to be fulfilled, someone would have to . . ."

Her voice trailed off as she considered the repercussions of her train of thought.  The others sat quietly, waiting and watching as she figured it out for herself.

"We need to go back in time, find Professor Snape, and bring him back here to help Harry defeat Voldemort," she concluded with a sigh, as Madame Pomfrey and Mr. Weasley cringed at her casual use of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's name.  "What a mess."

"Mess doesn't begin to cover it," mumbled Madame Pomfrey.  Arthur chuckled in response.

"So what is my role in this?  Don't tell me you want me to go back and get him," asked Hermione. "He's not exactly likely to listen to me.  I wasn't his favorite student."

Professor Dumbledore motioned toward his never-ending supply of candy, "Please, Miss Granger, have a chocolate.  It will make this easier to hear."  

She shook her head in growing frustration, "I don't need a chocolate, just tell me why it has to be me."

"Think, Miss Granger.  Everyone on both sides of this war knows Severus to be dead.  Were he to suddenly appear again, suspicions would be aroused and Voldemort would stop at nothing to discover how it happened and to eliminate him again.  Thus, he must be brought back in such a way that he will not be recognized."

Hermione nodded, "That makes sense."

"The most logical way of accomplishing this would be to bring him to Hogwarts, as a student.  None of the students will recognize him, and with some minor cosmetic alterations to his appearance, neither will any of the staff, those in the room notwithstanding."  The headmaster tried again, unsuccessfully, to convince Hermione to accept a chocolate.  He shrugged at her refusal and continued his explanation.  "The timing of his . . .extraction . . . is critical.  We must retrieve him as late in his schooling as possible, to maximize his knowledge, but we must approach him before he accepts the Dark Mark.  Luckily, we know when this time is:  shortly after the second term of his sixth year begins."

"How you know that," wondered Hermione aloud.  "Did he tell you exactly when he pledged allegiance to Voldemort?"

Professor Dumbledore shook his head, "No, that particular detail did not seem important.  We have other evidence to the fact, namely, that Severus was absent from Hogwarts for the remainder of that term.  Unfortunately, I can't recall exactly why, as I must confess it was not something I paid much attention to at the time.  However, it meshes perfectly with our plans in that it would allow us to retrieve Severus for an extended period of time before sending him back."

Hermione sighed, "I still don't see why you're asking me to go.  Not that I'm refusing or anything, it's just that you seem very certain that it must be me."

"For our plan to work, as few people as possible must know that Severus is with us.  Myself, the Headmaster, Madame Pomfrey, and Mr. Weasley all have essential roles, and without any additional information we would see no reason to inform anyone else.  Why then, if your dealings with him had never been anything other than teacher/student, would he write you the letter he did before he left to face his own death?"  Professor McGonagall's voice was kindly but firm as she pointed out the logic of their thoughts.  Hermione started to speak but was hushed as her head of House continued.  "I'm not implying anything untoward about your past relationship, Miss Granger.  I'm merely stating that it is obvious that for some reason you will be privy to his future identity, as evidenced by his letter, and the only way that this could happen would be for us to involve you in the plan."

Comprehension filled Hermione's eyes. "I see.  So by inference you've decided I must be the one to go back?"

"Precisely.  With the foreknowledge of your involvement a given, you are the natural choice to send back.  Any of the adults would be recognized by the denizens of Hogwarts past, whereas you, as an as-of-yet-unborn muggleborn, would not," explained Professor McGonagall.

Hermione was beginning to get excited, despite the serious nature of the matter at hand.  To see Hogwarts over two decades ago!  What an adventure!  She tried not to admit to herself a twinge of curiosity about what a teenage Severus Snape would be like. . . Come now, Hermione, focus.

"I understand.  You're right, it makes perfect sense.  So what are all your roles," she asked, motioning to Madame Pomfrey and Mr. Weasley.  "I know the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall witnessed the prophecy, but what about you?"

"I don't think I need to point out that what we're planning goes against about fifty Ministry laws," grinned Mr. Weasley.  "Someone on the inside will need to cover it up, and I was the lucky one to get that job, as I'm involved in the misuse of magic department."

Professor Dumbledore took it upon himself to explain Madame Pomfrey's involvement. "We approached Madame Pomfrey because we will need her help in managing any difficulties young Severus might have in adjusting to a time so far in the future. Additionally, we're still trying to sort out several of the logistical details of his retrieval and thought she could assist in that manner as well."

"We need to determine why young Severus was able to take almost an entire term away from school without question from the faculty and without being noticed as missing by his family," explained Madame Pomfrey. "I'm thinking that the most logical solution would be an illness of some type, one that we could not or would not treat at the school."

"But if he were to be sent home his parents would be notified, wouldn't they?" asked Hermione.  "Or if he were truly that ill, they'd probably need to come get him personally."

"Excellent point, Miss Granger," remarked Professor McGonagall. "I can't imagine Madame McKinley would have sent him home unaccompanied."

"Maybe I could approach you when I go back and you could pretend that he was sent home," said Hermione to the Headmaster.  "Then we wouldn't have to notify them."

Professor Dumbledore shook his head, "I'm afraid that's out of the question.  I know you didn't do that, or I would remember it."

"So it follows that at least one of Snape's parents must have been notified.  Which means either that parent showed an unimaginable lack of concern at their son's long absence, or they were informed of the plan," reasoned Mr. Weasley. 

"What do we know about his parents?" asked Professor McGonagall. "He never spoke of them."

Professor Dumbledore explained what he knew of Snape's family.  Although the Snape line was one of the oldest wizarding families, Severus' father, Theodore Snape, was the youngest of three sons and as such stood to inherit little of the family holdings.  Thus he was forced into trade, lowering his own social standing.  His parents arranged a marriage to the daughter of another prominent wizarding family, but as luck would have it she was not as financially well-endowed as his parents had surmised, and Snape's father quickly spent what little dowry she had.  It was known that Snape's father drank heavily, and hated the wife that he blamed for all his problems.  

"He sounds like a lovely man," snickered Madame Pomfrey.

Professor McGonagall cut in, "But what were his affiliations?  Did he follow the Dark Lord?"

Mr. Weasley shrugged, "I don't think he was ever accused of doing so, although it was certainly suspected.  He had the right connections, but there was no hard evidence in that regard."

"Then we can't take the chance," insisted Professor McGonagall, turning to the Headmaster.  "What about his mother, Albus?"

"I met Olivia on a couple of occasions, she is quite unremarkable.  Very quiet, soft-spoken, but not unpleasant.  I suspect her husband did not treat her well," he replied.

"Did not treat her well," prompted Hermione.

"Theodore Snape passed away several years ago," responded the Headmaster.

"What about Mrs. Snape," asked Hermione.  "Is she still alive."

"I believe so," replied Professor Dumbledore.  "She attended Severus' funeral, and is the recipient of a trust he set up for her in the event of his death.  Last I recall she still runs the business her husband started."

Hermione thought a moment. "If Professor Dumbledore is correct and Mrs. Snape was mistreated by her husband, and if he might have been a Death Eater, she might be sympathetic to our cause."

Madame Pomfrey nodded, "It sounds like our best chance, especially given the fact that she is currently alive and Mr. Snape is not."

"Cuckoo!  Cuckoo!  Supper time!  Supper time!"  The clock on the wall behind Professor Dumbledore's desk made its opinion perfectly clear.

"It seems we'll need to continue this discussion later. Poppy, I will leave it to you to determine an appropriate illness for Severus to 'contract'.  Minerva and I will discuss the logistics after supper.  Shall we meet again tomorrow, same time, to finalize plans?"

Everyone agreed to this plan, save Mr. Weasley, who was wary of leaving work early two days in a row.  He agreed to meet with the Headmaster the following evening instead.  The meeting was adjourned, and everyone set off for their respective supper arrangements.

*****

The team met every day for the next week.  Hermione was both exhausted and exhilarated from the precise planning required to match the details of a plan which had ostensibly already occurred.  It was determined that Hermione would leave for the past early next week, but first the wheels must be set in motion with a visit to Olivia Snape.

"Are you ready, Hermione?" asked Ron.  He and Harry were bundled up in their heavy jackets in preparation for a Hogsmeade weekend. "I think I hear butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks calling our names!"

She gave a sheepish frown in return, "I'm sorry, but I just can't go.  Professor McGonagall is going to help me with my independent study project today."  They'd come up with the "independent study" cover story as a believable reason for Hermione's frequent disappearing acts.

"Shite, Hermione, now you're making McGonagall work on Saturday too," joked Harry. "Ron, we'd better leave, this studying thing might be contagious."

Ron didn't look particularly happy to have his girlfriend stay behind.  He sat down on the edge of Hermione's chair, putting an arm around her and trying to woo her with little kisses on the side of her head.  "Come on, Hermione, cancel on McGonagall and come with us!  She'll understand."

"I really can't, Ron.  I'm sorry."  She grinned devilishly at him.  "But I'll make it up to you later."

Harry made a show of covering his ears, "I can't hear you!" while Ron blushed and whispered in her ear, "I'll hold you to it, love."

"Come on, you!"  Harry grabbed Ron's arm and began dragging him towards the portrait hole out of the Common Room.  "We don't want to let Malfoy and his cronies get the good table!"

"Have fun!" Hermione called after them with unfeigned melancholy.  She was more than a little nervous about the upcoming meeting with Snape's mum, and would much rather have been going to Hogsmeade with Harry and her boyfriend.

*****

Professor Dumbledore himself accompanied Hermione to visit Mrs. Snape, primarily because of their previous acquaintance.  The two of them Floo'd to the Whistling Snitch Pub outside of the not coincidentally named Snape Village where Mrs. Snape's Quill and Ink distribution business was located. (Historical Note:  The Romans avoided the land surrounding the Old Castle, which they believed was haunted.  Over time, some daring Angles inhabited a patch of land nearby, though they still tried to stay clear of the odd Old Castle.  Word of bizarre happenings spread, and people throughout the land began referring to the growing community by the name of the odd folks living in the castle nearby, Snape. Today, a small wizarding community lives in the vicinity, unnoticed by the muggles who have long since forgotten about the weird ones next door, thanks to improvements in wizarding camouflaging technologies.) 

Mrs. Snape lived in same the rooms above the office and warehouse that she'd occupied with her husband (and son) for many years.  The  building was but a short walk from the Whistling Snitch, and with the help of a heavy jacket and a warming charm, the walk was quite pleasant.

The building was very old and made of stone.  The wooden door to the office looked sturdy but in need of a fresh coat of paint.  Hermione was about to knock on the door when Professor Dumbledore pointed out a small sign, indicating that the entrance to the Snape residence was around the back.  

The two walked around the building to find a stone staircase protruding from the building, leading up to the second floor.  They climbed the stairs, and finding a bell, rang it.

They stood for several minutes, unsure if anyone was at home, before they heard footsteps slowly approaching the door.  Then a moment of silence, and the door was opened.

The haggard woman who answered had the look of one aged well beyond her years, for she could not be any older than Professor McGonagall but had none of her spritely energy.  Her long, salt and pepper hair hung limply over her shoulders, and the wrinkles on her face seemed to drag it towards the floor.  She looked back and forth between Hermione and the Headmaster, then suddenly smiled, her eyes taking on a new light.

"Come in, please.  I've been wondering when you'd come."

Author's Note:  Thank you to Amethyst who pointed out the canonical error I made in the first chapter (but am now correcting!) – Dumbledore was headmaster when Snape was a student, so he should have said "Soon after I became Headmaster," in Chapter 1, not "Before I was Headmaster."

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I'm glad I've managed to catch your attention, what with all the excellent stories out there to read!  I hope you will continue to enjoy where this story leads! -- ShagsTheDustmop


	3. Forethought

"You've been expecting us?" Hermione stuttered.  "How did you . . ."

Mrs. Snape gave a weary smile as she led her guests into the parlor.  "I didn't know when it would be, of course, but ever since Severus . . . passed on . . . I've been waiting for your visit.  Would you like some tea?  I've just put a kettle on."

Hermione watched the older lady as she hobbled toward a small kitchenette, where Hermione could hear a teapot currently whistling.  The woman's slight limp was heard even more than seen – her shoes made a distinct "scrape – clop" sound against the aging wood floor.  Mrs. Snape's arms shook a little as she carried the tea set back into the parlor, causing it to wobble precariously.  Whether it was from excitement, nervousness, or a physical malady Hermione could not tell.

"I'm afraid I don't have any biscuits to offer, but the tea should at least help cut through the chill.  I suppose you walked from the pub?"  She continued as she poured the tea with shaky hands, not waiting for an answer to her hypothetical question. "You must be freezing."

"Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Snape, a cup of tea would be just lovely," assured Professor Dumbledore.

Hermione nursed her tea, waiting for Mrs. Snape to sit down before pouncing.  "You said you knew we would be coming.  How is that?"

"I've known for over twenty years that this day would come, dear.  Ever since you brought me the letter I'm going to write today." Mrs. Snape smiled.  "I'm actually quite looking forward to hearing the whole story.  The letter was necessarily vague but left me quite in the dark as to the reason behind the whole scheme."

Hermione looked inquisitively at Professor Dumbledore, who shrugged. "Time travel, being the dangerous and tricky endeavor that it is, can have strange results.  It follows that those we've affected by our actions might recall it as a natural part of their own past.  Few studies of the process have been made, since its legality has always been dubious.  Mrs. Snape, what do you remember?"

"Please, call me Olivia," she chastened. "The details are all still so fresh, even after all this time.  You, Miss . . ."

"Granger," supplied Hermione.

"Miss Granger. . .you came into the shop one morning and asked to see me.  It was a Tuesday, I remember that because Theodore always visited his mistress on Tuesdays and left the shop with me.  So it was safe for you to come then, I imagine, and not risk him seeing you."  Olivia's voice took on a harder quality as she mentioned her husband's name, and her fingers clenched a little around her teacup, causing it to shake harder.  She soon relaxed as the conversation continued away from him.  "I was doing the inventory when you arrived, and so you came in back with me and we talked as I counted.  I'm afraid I didn't pay you much attention until you gave me the letter, as I was worried that I wouldn't get my work done and that Theodore . . . anyway, you showed me the letter and then I knew I had to help you.  Had to let you take Severus for awhile.  You promised he'd be back before he'd be missed, and you were right.  Theodore never found out about it, and none of you at Hogwarts suspected anything amiss either."

"What did the letter say?" asked Hermione.

Mrs. Snape pursed her lips, "Mainly that I should trust you and let you take Severus into the future to perform an important duty, help save the wizarding world, etc.  No specifics, I'm afraid.  Oh, and something to convince me that the request was legitimately coming from my own future self.  I'm afraid with some of the . . . connections that my husband kept, I wasn't very trusting, even of my own writing."

This piqued Hermione's interest.  "What did you say to do that?"

"Something very personal. . .that I'd rather not discuss.  As you know, it was effective and that is all that need concern you."  Mrs. Snape's tone wasn't rude, but definitely told Hermione that the subject was off limits.  "So, Professor Dumbledore, would you please, after all this time, let an old woman know what she's getting her son into?"

"Of course, Olivia."  Professor Dumbledore proceeded to explain about the prophecy, skipping over some of the details but touching upon the fact that her son's aid would be needed to defeat the Dark Lord.  "And of course I don't need to tell you that the prophecy is highly secret, and that you must not repeat a word of it to anyone?"

Olivia grinned, "I've kept the secret for over twenty years, I'm sure I can keep quiet a bit longer.  I suppose I must write the letter now.  If you'll excuse me. . ."

Mrs. Snape stood clumsily and retreated through a rickety door, closing it after her.  

"That was surprisingly easy," commented the Headmaster.  "We didn't even get to use our persuasive cover story."

Hermione laughed. "What a waste!  And after all that time we spent preparing it, too!"

The two sat silently, sipping their tea, for several minutes before Mrs. Snape returned with a sealed parchment, which she handed to Hermione.

"I've enchanted this parchment so that only I may open it," she cautioned.  "It will combust if anyone other than me attempts to do so.  The letter will accomplish its task, but it is for my eyes only."

"Understood," acknowledged Professor Dumbledore.  "Miss Granger will deliver this letter to you _intact_."  Hermione felt his pointed stare and she nodded in agreement.

"Yes, of course, thank you very much for your help, Mrs. Snape!"

"My pleasure, Miss Granger.  I almost forgot, I have something else for you as well."  Just then, Hermione noticed that Mrs. Snape was carrying a second sealed parchment.  "It occurred to me that my son might resist participating in this plan.  Hopefully this letter will help encourage him."

Hermione accepted the scroll gratefully.  "Thank you!  I admit that aspect of the plan had me a little worried."

"Although Severus was always a secretive, uncommunicative boy, I think I understand his motivations fairly well.  If I'm right, this letter will convince him."  Mrs Snape took a deep breath and smiled.  "I must confess I feel a certain ironic satisfaction at playing a part to fight against those my husband held so dear.  But if I might make one, small request of you in return?"

"Of course," replied Hermione. "Anything."

"Bring Severus to see me, when it's all over. . .before he goes back.  I want to see my son alive one last time before I die."

*****

"So what did you bring me?" asked Hermione with a smile as Ron and Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room after their trip to Hogsmeade.  "Something good, I hope."

Ron leaned down to kiss her cheek, "Just the usual I'm afraid.  A box of Chocolate Frogs and . . ." He reached into his pocket and produced a small book. ". . .some 'light reading.'"

"I held on to the Chocolate Frogs," grinned Harry as he tossed her the box. "So you might actually get to eat some this time."

"Thank you!  Although my parents would go mental if they knew you were bringing me chocolate!  I'll save these for later, since it's almost time for supper."

Ron looked across at the cuckoo clock on the wall. "Right.  I'd better get changed.  Malfoy was up to his old tricks again and, well. . ." He turned, displaying a splatter of mud on his bum.  When Hermione started to giggle, Ron snapped, "Well, ferret-face came out looking much worse, I assure you."

"Go change, Ron, I don't want to be late for dinner," cajoled Hermione. "As nice as the bullseye look is. . ."  She and Harry burst out laughing again as Ron stomped out of the room.  Once he was out of earshot, Hermione hushed and motioned for Harry to come closer.

"Harry," whispered Hermione.  "Before Ron comes back. . .can I borrow your invisibility cloak tomorrow night?"

"What for?"

Hermione painted her most beguiling smile on as she pleaded, "You know I wouldn't ask you if it weren't important, but I'm working on a present. . .for Ron. . .and I need to get back into the restricted section to do some of the research."

"What kind of a present," asked Harry, always the curious one.

"I'd rather not say until I know I can do it," Hermione prevaricated.  "Please?"

Harry chewed his lip as if considering. "All right.  Just make sure Mrs. Norris doesn't smell you or anything, I'd hate for Filch to confiscate it."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I'll be extra careful, I promise.  Thank you!  When can I get it from you?"

"After dinner tomorrow, ask Ron if he wants to play a game of Wizard Chess.  He'll be so excited he won't even think about the fact that usually he's the one doing the asking. Leave your bag on the couch over there," he motioned to a couch directly behind Ron's favorite chess chair. "I'll fetch the cloak while you're playing and put it in your bag."

"Perfect.  Thank you!" she whispered, hearing Ron's voice as he trampled down the stairs from the boy's dormitory.

"All right then, shall we go eat?"

*****

Very early that Monday morning, Hermione met Professor Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey outside the Potions dungeon.  The headmaster unwarded the doors and they entered,  They'd acquired a time turner as well as all the other 'props' that would be needed for the endeavor, and were going through the list to make sure they forgot nothing.

"Now, Miss Granger, you must remember that effects of the potion will only last for forty-eight hours.  You must have everything in place for the extraction before Severus drinks it, or he will appear to have been cured," instructed Madame Pomfrey. "I've charmed the vial to be unbreakable, so as long as your timing is correct you should have no problem."

Hermione nodded in acknowledgement and the nurse continued, handing her the potion.  "Be aware that the symptoms will be very pronounced for the two days Severus is affected.  He will be in considerable pain and is likely to be rather . . . unpleasant."

"I'm sure I can handle it," grinned Hermione as she pocketed the vial.  "I'd become quite accustomed to Professor Snape's being unpleasant."

Professor Dumbledore interjected, "Miss Granger, you're aware that Severus was quite a different person as a teenager.  He will bear very little resemblance to the Professor you knew, save in his outward appearance.  You are prepared for this, are you not?"

"I think so," answered Hermione. "From what you've told me, Professor Snape craved notice as a child, and was much more emotional than as an adult.  I'm to play to his sense of wanting to feel important."

The headmaster nodded, "Yes, I'm afraid that there were many times in his youth where he felt as if he were valued less than his classmates.  I don't think he ever forgave me for not punishing Sirius for his part in the Shrieking Shack incident, even after all these years.  If you can make Severus feel that he is valued and will be rewarded for his participation, I believe he'll agree to just about anything."

"That's probably why he joined the Death Eaters in the first place," commented Madame Pomfrey.  "I'm sure the Dark Lord offered him the glory he craved."

"You're probably right," agreed Professor Dumbledore. "Oh, and there is one more thing that you must remember, Miss Granger."

"What is that?"

"Call him Severus."

Hermione smiled, "Of course.  I'm sure once I see him as a boy my own age, it will be easy to see him as a different person, who I can associate with a different name."

"I hope so," cautioned Professor Dumbledore, "for if anyone hears you refer to him as Professor Snape, there are bound to be consequences.  Although you should avoid being seen, whenever possible."

"What if I am seen?  What should I say," asked Hermione.  She never was particularly good at prevaricating.

Professor Dumbledore handed her a scarf.  "Wear this."

"But Professor Dumbledore," Hermione challenged, "this scarf looks just like mine."

"Looks can be deceiving, Miss Granger.  That scarf has been heavily enchanted.  Its color changes to suit the situation.  If you were among Slytherins and desired not to be recognized, it would display Hufflepuff colors.  If you were speaking to a lone Slytherin and wished him to feel at ease with you, it would shine silver and green."

Hermione gasped, "I understand!  So a group of Gryffindors would see a Slytherin, so they wouldn't be concerned that they didn't know her name.  And Slytherins would never acknowledge a Hufflepuff.  Does it work off my thoughts?"

"Yes," answered the headmaster. "Think about being invisible and the scarf will react one way, think about being accepted, and it would react the other.  Keep in mind though, it will not help you in large, mixed, crowds, as it only displays one set of colors at once.  Your goal is still to avoid detection, so keep the invisibility cloak with you at all times."

"I will.  Other than making contact with Professor. . .with Severus, and with his mother, I should have little need of being visible," reasoned Hermione.  "Anything else?"

The headmaster and the nurse both shook their heads.  "I think that's it.  Are you ready?"

Hermione nodded.

"Bring him right back here, at this exact time.  Wear the invisibility cloak, so that if the timing is off you can make your way to the infirmary undetected.  We'll have a lot to do when we return, and quickly."  The headmaster put a hand on Hermione's shoulder.  "Good luck."

"Thank you," she replied as Madame Pomfrey leaned down to give her a quick hug. "See you soon!"

She covered herself with the invisibility cloak, readied the Time Turner, and began to turn. . .

****

A/N:

Thanks to all who reviewed! I'm glad people are enjoying it and hope I can keep you entertained!

Lorena Snape – You are correct, I am working under the assumption that it is possible for Arthur to be transferred within his department, it should have stated Improper Use of Magic department and that this department would have jurisdiction on enforcement issues.  I'll try to make this correction soon.

DistinctVagueness-Thanks!  I'm glad I have you hooked! *muhahaha* Since your fics do the same for me I'm quite flattered!

Melissa Jooty – I think Dumbledore is grieved, but does not show it much.  At least on camera, so to speak.  This is all from Hermione's POV so she wouldn't see his reactions when he's not with her, and he needs to put up the brave face as the headmaster.

Otherside2 – Methinks you will too!

DragongirlG – I'm glad you like my portrayal of Ron too, some people don't like that I've paired Hermione up with him but as the story progresses I think it will be clear that it will be more interesting this way.


	4. Slytherins Are People, Too!

Hermione discovered rather quickly that her timing was a little off.  She'd hoped to arrive at night, but the corridor was filled with students!  She dove behind a pillar to avoid a couple of Ravenclaws who were about to walk right into her.  Thank heavens for the invisibility cloak, she thought, mentally hugging Harry for loaning it to her.

It must be between classes, everyone is in a hurry.  She waited in her guarded spot for several minutes until the corridor cleared before emerging.  She'd see if she could find Professor Snape. . . no, Severus, she reminded herself. . . in one of his classes, then tail him until he could get him alone.  Since she was right outside the Potions dungeon, she might as well check there first.

The door was ajar, apparently this Hogwarts' Potions Master, Professor Gruber his name was, preferred fresh air.  How convenient, thought Hermione as she tiptoed inside to get a better look at the students who were staring at their instructor as he wrote on the board.

No such luck, thought Hermione.  This class contained Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, so was highly unlikely to contain Severus.  The clock on the wall indicated that it was two in the afternoon.  The last class of the day.  She quietly left the room and made her way down the hall and up the stairs toward the nearest set of classrooms.

She peeked in on History of Magic and Transfiguration, amused to see that Binns had changed not at all and Professor McGonagall a bit more (the latter having significantly fewer gray hairs and wrinkles than in her own time), but saw no sign of her quarry.  Wanting to exhaust all the main castle options before heading to the greenhouses or the Astronomy tower, she peeked in on the Ancient Runes class and saw what she'd come to see.

The sixth year Ancient Runes class was going over a lesson she herself had learned the week previously.  The class held an assortment of students from all four Houses; mostly Ravenclaws, of course, with a few Gryffindors, one Hufflepuff, and three Slytherins.  Two Slytherin girls sat next to each other in one of the middle rows, and the lone Slytherin boy sat by himself in the otherwise empty last row.  He was hunched over his parchment, alternating between taking notes and chewing on the end of his quill.  His lank, greasy hair fell around his face like a curtain as he gazed downwards, shielding the majority of his facial features from view.  But he could be no other than Severus Snape, with the tip of his long nose protruding past the ends of his hair.

Hermione carefully entered the room and seated herself in one of the empty chairs in the last row, as silent as she could be.  She had several minutes left to observe before the class ended.  He stared at the parchment mostly, except for when the Professor showed an example at which he was required to look.  When he looked up, gravity dragged his hair away from his face and opened it to Hermione's perusal.  His eyes were quite expressionless as he absorbed the material, his mouth set in neither smile nor frown.  He had none of the pained, "oh why am I here" look about him that she had always associated with his older self; the closest thing to an expression she saw was the furrowing of his brow when the professor touched upon a difficult point.  Whatever else he was, he was definitely paying attention to the lecture.

When the lecture finished, Hermione watched as Severus carefully gathered his books and parchments together and began walking toward the door.  Hermione rose and stood to the side watching as a Ravenclaw boy shoved past him, knocking his books to the floor.  

"Watch where you're going, Snivellus…" the Ravenclaw jeered as he walked away.  The rest of the students continued to push by, ignoring Severus' attempts to keep his books from being trod upon.

Only the two Slytherin girls paid him any further notice.  They stopped, and watching him scramble to pick up his things, began to giggle.  The taller of the two spoke through her laughter. "You'd think he's a Hufflepuff or something, a _real_ Slytherin would have hexed that boy into tomorrow.  But not Snivellus Snape, our house disgrace."

  
The girls laughed as they departed, one of them kicking Severus' notes out of the way as she did so.  Hermione felt the anger rising throughout this entire scene, she'd never had any patience for bullies of any sort and couldn't stand to see a person picked on.  She ignored the little voice that reminded her that Professor Snape had been one of the biggest bullies she'd known, for at the moment Severus reminded her far more of poor Neville than her daunting Potions professor.

She looked around the room.  All the students were gone, and the professor too had apparently vanished back into his office.  No time like the present, she thought.  She tiptoed around where Severus was still gathering his things and left the classroom.  No one was watching, as students in Severus' time were apparently as wont to head outside after their last class of the day as in her own time.  With one last look all around, she pulled off the invisibility cloak and after stowing it in her bag, walked back into the classroom.

She knelt to the ground beside Severus and handed him the quill that had dropped a few feet away.  "Here, you don't want to forget this."

He looked up at her, startled.  His gaze traveled to the Slytherin colors on her scarf, then back up to her face.  He cautiously accepted his belongings, then asked "Do I know you?"

"No, probably not," she answered in what she hoped was a shy manner.  "I'm nobody important."

Severus snorted, "Keep talking to me and I guarantee that will never change.  You must be younger than you look, or you'd know that being seen with me is . . .impolitic . . . in Slytherin house."

"That's just stupid," responded Hermione.  "If the sorting hat put you in Slytherin, then you're a Slytherin.  With the Gryffindor population as high as it is, we shouldn't be taking sides amongst ourselves."  Did she really just say that, Hermione wondered?

A small smile crept onto Severus' face, which disappeared almost instantly after.  "True.  Naïve and having absolutely no basis in reality, but true."  Now that Severus had a firm grip on his belongings they stood and looked at one another.  He towered over her, apparently having reached his full adult height already.  All the better for him to think she's younger, she thought.  At least until he trusts me enough for me to tell him otherwise.  Which may take a little while.

He continued to stare down at her, then raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"You're blocking the door," he responded matter-of-factly.

She skittered out of the way.  "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he chastened as he left.  "They'll walk all over you if you do."

Hermione watched him leave, before donning the invisibility cloak again to follow him down the hall and down the stairs and over to a stone wall.  Hermione didn't remember ever seeing a door there, but there one was. Several children were lining up to head through, so Hermione just pulled up the rear and followed quickly behind.  She followed a few steps behind Severus and found herself in the Slytherin common room.  She stayed close behind as he made his way toward his room.  No one along the way spoke to him or acknowledged him; he apparently was something of a pariah in his own House.  Who would have thought he'd someday be the head of the House that scorned him, thought Hermione.  Rather ironic, actually.

Well, now she knew where his room was.  He apparently shared with another boy, for there were two beds, though they were alone at present.  Severus dropped his bag onto one of the beds, apparently his, and placed the books he was carrying on the adjacent desk.  With nothing but a sigh, he seated himself at the desk and began to study.  

Hermione had never been so bored in her life, watching Severus sit and read.  She was unable to read along, for he sat hunched over his book much like he had in class, obscuring her view.  Every few minutes she glanced over at his clock, which seemed to be moving at about the speed of an earthworm.  After an hour, she'd begun to doubt the wisdom of following him in, since he'd closed the door after him and now she was trapped.  Her heels were sore from standing, and she was afraid to sit down for fear of being heard or having the imprint of her behind seen on the quilt.  She shifted back and forth, waiting for something to allow her escape.

Her small amount of Gryffindor patience near its end, she'd almost decided to expose herself and rely on his mother's letter being sufficient to ensure his cooperation when the door slammed open and a large, block-faced boy stomped in.  The boy, obviously Severus' roommate, did not acknowledge him but merely began rifling through his own things, as if searching for something.  Once he found what he was looking for, he strode back out of the room without a word, leaving the door open behind him.  

Severus looked up from his book to see the door ajar, and with a sigh, rose to close it.  Sensing her chance, Hermione raced out the door before he was out of his seat.  She returned to the Common room, where several children were playing, in much the same way as those in her own House often did.  Two boys of about her own age were playing wizard chess, while a small group of younger boys and girls were playing Exploding Snap.  Hermione sat down on the floor against the back wall, out of foot traffic but well in view of all the doors.  If Severus came downstairs, she'd see.

"So why don't you ask her out already," said the dark haired boy at the chessboard to his fairer companion.  "You've been mooning over her for months now."

"Mooning?  You must be imagining things," responded his friend.

Dark-hair snickered and shook his head, "Norton, you can't take your eyes off her.  Now I admit she's no Florence Midgeon to look at, and she may even be part veela for all I know, but I can still formulate complete sentences in her presence, whereas you . . ."

"I what?" challenged Norton as he took a black pawn with his knight. 

"You stutter."

"I. . .I do not. . .stutter," Norton spurted. "Just because I don't have your poetic turn of phrase, Gavin, does not mean that I stutter."

Gavin grinned and moved his queen, placing Norton in check. "Stop wasting your time trying to convince me and ask her out already.  How about next Hogsmeade weekend?  I'll be going with Prue anyway, and three's a crowd. We could double date."

"I can't," Norton's face paled at the suggestion. "You know she's dating Travers.  He'll transfigure me into an egg. And crush me!"

"Do you need some skele-gro or something, because it sounds like you're missing a spine.  I know you like her, you know you like her, she would have to be blind and deaf not to know you like her as well, so just do it."  Gavin's exasperation with his friend was becoming apparent.

Norton directed his king out of harm's way before muttering, "What do I look like, a Gryffindor?"

"I'll dare you.  Ten galleons if you'll do it."

"Well, I don't know. . ."

Hermione's fascination with the conversation was put aside as she saw Severus come down the stairs and head towards the exit.  She scrambled to her feet and followed him out the door.  

Severus walked quite fast, his eyes aimed low as to avoid eye contact with any passing by him.  Hermione had to struggle to keep pace with him as he made his way up several flights of stairs to . . .the library.  Madame Pince nodded to him as he entered, which was probably a friendlier greeting than she'd ever given Hermione.  Severus nodded back and walked straight through to the stacks, as if he knew just what he was looking for.  He barely stopped to pluck his chosen book from the shelf before whirling back to find a seat.  The library was nearly abandoned, but still Severus chose a table off in the corner, a secluded table in an almost empty room.  He sat down and began to read.

Again, Hermione found herself bored as she watched him.  Was this what her friends felt like when they cajoled her to leave her studies in favor of a romp in the snow?  She refused to let her thoughts go that way and decided instead that she'd pay Severus another visit.  She sought shelter in the stacks to remove her cloak, then emerged to greet her charge again.

He didn't look up as she approached, and if she craned her neck, she could see that the book he was reading was "Curses and Countercurses: Advanced Course".  Hermione had never seen this particular book on the shelves, which surprised her since she thought she'd seen them all.  She pulled out a chair and sat down next to him, causing him to jump.  

"Merlin's teeth, didn't anyone ever teach you not to sneak up on someone when they're reading," snapped Severus.

Hermione giggled, "Sorry, I'll be sure to wear a bell next time.  So who's the victim?"

"What do you mean?"

"Since you're reading up on curses, I figured you've got a target in mind," she replied, motioning toward the book.  She ventured a guess.  "It wouldn't be Potter or Black, would it?"

Severus eyed her suspiciously, "Why do you say that?"

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes, "Come on now, Severus, everyone knows how much you hate them, even in my class."  That was technically true.  His older self had professed hatred for the two of them on multiple occasions.  "They'd be natural targets for you."  She recalled a story Harry'd told her after Professor Snape died about how his father had treated their Professor when they went to school together.  "And they'd certainly deserve it."

Severus' eyes warmed a little at her words, though they still shined with something like disbelief.  "What did they do to you?"

"Nothing," she replied honestly. "I just know how they treat others."  Namely you, she thought.

"Well, whether they deserve it or not, I'm not likely to be able to do anything about it.  The Old Bat defends them, no matter what they do.  Anything for his precious Gryffindors," he sneered.

Hermione swallowed.  Severus certainly still has a grudge against the headmaster, which does not bode well for asking for his help.  She'd have to be creative.  Or if worse comes to worse, rely on his mum's letter.

"Mr. Snape, Miss . . . anyway, aside from reminding you that this is a library, and that libraries are for study and not conversation, you might want to also consider that it is now suppertime."  

Two young heads whipped toward the clock on the wall, which showed that it was, indeed, time for supper.  Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that Madame Pince glossed over not having any idea who she was, and watched as Severus took his book to Madame Pince, requesting permission to check it out.  The librarian granted the request with none of her usual complaints about grubby students.  Severus must be a frequent denizen of the library, thought Hermione, or she'd never react so serenely.  Unless she, too, has greatly changed in twenty years.

"Well?" Severus prompted as Hermione stood unmoving.  "Are you coming to dinner, or were you planning on keeping Madame Pince company all evening?"

Hermione blushed, "Actually, I did come in here to do some reading, although I obviously got sidetracked.  I'm really not hungry so I think I'll just stay here and study."

Severus shrugged and wandered out.

Hermione's stomach growled.  She'd already figured out how to handle the issue of food, having been inspired by Fred and George's method of acquiring midnight snacks.  Unfortunately, her plan required waiting until after everyone else had eaten and then approaching the house elves with sad eyes and outstretched hands.  As guilty as she felt asking the house elves to take any special trouble on her account, she justified the action in that it was all for the good of defeating the Dark Lord.  But for now, she had to wait.   

*****

The house elves were really quite generous, thought Hermione as she sneaked out of the kitchens with about two days worth of food and the books she'd pilfered from the library and headed toward the seven flights of stairs that would take her to her lodging for the next several days, the Room of Requirement.

As anticipated, the room had just what she needed, resembling a muggle efficiency flat.  She had a bed, chair, kitchenette, and bathroom, certainly everything she'd need for a short stay incognito in the castle.  After stowing the majority of the food save what she planned to eat right then, she made herself at home.

*****

The plan required increasing Severus' exposure to Hermione while arousing as little suspicion as possible.  The very next day, Hermione planned on seeing him barely at all.  She arranged to be walking down the corridor in the opposite direction as Severus twice, offering nothing but a smile and a wave each time.  In this way, Severus was hopefully becoming accustomed to seeing her around without it appearing that she was following him.  And of no lesser importance was her need to visit Snape's mother.  The day was Tuesday, and Mrs. Snape had indicated that Hermione had visited on a Tuesday.  Since she didn't fancy waiting an entire week to pay the call, she would have to go today.

Covered by the invisibility cloak, Hermione made her way to one of the Hogsmeade passages that was known, as far she knew, only to those in her own House.  She traversed the long passageway and emerged very near her destination.  As she'd had the foresight to eschew her Hogwarts school uniform in favor of ordinary wizarding robes, she was able to walk through the town without receiving much notice.

After having a quick butterbeer for luck, Hermione approached the fireplace in the back of the Hogshead and retrieved her supply of Floo Powder.  "The Whistling Snitch Pub in Snape Village," she pronounced, and stepped inside.

The pub's décor had changed since her last visit (or was it the other way around, thought Hermione) but overall the surroundings were quite similar.  Hermione made her way to the Snape family shop as if she'd been there yesterday, encouraged by her butterbeer and the foreknowledge of success based on her conversation with the older Mrs. Snape.  

The familiar stone building, with its sign pronouncing it "Quality Quills and Ink, Inc." also had not changed much in the twenty years since Hermione's last visit.  The paint on the door was fresher, and the trees out front much smaller, but otherwise the same.  Verifying that the "OPEN" sign was hanging in the window, Hermione turned the knob of the front door and stepped inside.

A/N:  I'll give everyone one guess as to who the Potions Master is named for!  Just kidding!  It is a nod to Alan Rickman's role in "Die Hard" as Hans Gruber.  And of course, thanks again to all the readers and reviewers!  Your comments, praise, and criticisms when I unknowingly go off canon are appreciated!


	5. Faces and Letters

"Get in here, lazy cow!  Customer!  Customer!"  For a moment Hermione wondered if she'd gotten the day wrong, and that Severus' father was actually in the office today.  But as she turned toward the rude voice, she saw a large, brightly colored bird perched majestically on a post near the window.

"I'll be right with you," called a haggard voice from behind the partially opened door leading deeper into Quality Quills and Ink, Inc.  "Please, make yourself comfortable."

A worn but functional couch sat against the wall next to the tropical bird's stoop.  Hermione seated herself on it, noticing that since its outburst the bird had turned its attention to its own plumage.  She surveyed the room, which bore more resemblance to her parents' waiting room than to a shop.  The glass table in front of the couch held several popular wizarding magazines, which waved to her from where they lay.  The only other furnishings in the room were the twin desks which ostensibly belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Snape.  After a few moments, a somewhat disheveled but much younger Olivia Snape burst into the room.  

"Please accept my apologies for not attending to you sooner, ma'am.  You quite literally caught me with my hands full."  The woman's manner was obscenely abject, much to Hermione's discomfort.  She was reminded of some of the less reputable vendors that could be found in Knockturn Alley.  "Now, what can I do for you, my dear?"

"Please, Mrs. Snape, there's no need to apologize."  The older woman started a bit at being referred to by name.  "Although I am here to see you specifically, regarding a matter of some importance."

Mrs. Snape looked perplexed.  "Me?  Are you sure?  Perhaps you mean my husband, Mr. Snape?  Although I'm afraid he is out of the office today…"

"No, ma'am, I'm quite sure that you are the person I need to speak to."  Hermione spoke gently but confidentally.

"Well, then," Mrs. Snape looked about the room, frowning when her eyes fell on the obnoxious bird, which was now watching them curiously.  "Perhaps you could accompany me into the back, we can talk while I finish organizing the inventory.  If you don't mind, that is?"

Hermione nodded her acquiescence and followed Mrs. Snape through the interior door into what appeared to be a large storeroom, too large for the outer dimensions of the building in point of fact.  Rows upon rows of boxes filled the room with only narrow walkways between them, and the nearest of these walkways was blocked by several stacks of boxes waiting to be shelved.  Mrs. Snape closed the door behind them.  

"I'm sorry to bring you back here among all the mess, but Horatio is rather nosy and I really do need to get these boxes shelved this morning," apologized the older woman.

"Horatio is the bird?" asked Hermione.

"My husband's bird, actually," replied Mrs. Snape.  Hermione didn't think she imagined the slight shudder accompanying the word 'husband'.

Mrs. Snape leaned over the first box, then cast a levitating charm to direct the it to its proper place on the shelves.  Hermione followed close behind.  "So, what business brings you here, my dear?"

"Not business, per sec, Mrs. Snape.  I apologize, this is going to sound very bizarre, but we need your help."

"Who is we?  And help with what?"  Mrs. Snape had the air of only halfway paying attention, as she concentrated on moving the crates without knocking into those already stacked.

"Well, the wizarding world as a whole actually, but more specifically myself, Albus Dumbledore, and some folks from the Ministry of Magic.  We're working to fulfill a prophecy that will save the wizarding world from the forces of evil."

"The Headmaster of Hogwarts and officials from the Ministry?  That sounds awfully official.  Are you sure you don't have me confused with someone else, I'm sure I don't know anything about this sort of thing."

"There's no mistake, Mrs. Snape.  Your son is the key figure in a prophecy about defeating a very powerful dark wizard."

"Severus?"  The witch looked down at Hermione, leaving the box she guided afloat in the air.  "But he's still in school!  In fact you look young enough to be a student yourself.  Why are you involved in all this?"

"I am a student, actually.  I was sent to retrieve Severus and seek your assistance because I would not be recognized by anyone.  You see, it isn't the current Professor Dumbledore orchestrating the plot, but a future Professor Dumbledore."  Hermione retrieved the letter from Mrs. Snape's older self from the pocket of her robe.  "Your son is the only one who can help us, and to get his help we must have your own.  If you would please read this letter, I believe it will explain everything."

After setting the floating box down, Mrs. Snape accepted the letter and retrieved her reading glasses from the pocket of her robe.  Hermione watched the emotions play out across the woman's face as she read.  She saw shock at being addressed by her future self turn to acceptance and then a terrifying sorrow.  The older witch's eyes filled with tears at some unknown grief, and she slumped down onto the large crate beside her, letting the hand holding the letter fall to her side.  After a moment, she read the note again, her eyes filling with a grim determination, and she pulled out her wand.  

"Incendio!"  The scroll burst into flames.  

Hermione was dumbfounded; Mrs. Snape was supposed to believe the letter!  That was how the older Olivia had said that it happened!  Had she done something wrong?

"I wouldn't want that to fall into the wrong hands," explained Mrs. Snape wearily as the last remnants of the letter turned to ash.  She looked across at Hermione, her gaze filled with mingled pain and resolve.  "I won't pretend to understand any of this, but I cannot doubt the truth of the matter.  Obviously my future self believes in your mission, or she would not have sent me this letter.  We must be careful though, my husband's loyalties are not what they should be – he must not find out what we are doing."

"I know.  But Mr. Snape is away on Tuesdays and Thursdays, is he not?"  The older woman nodded.  "Then we must work around those days."  Hermione explained the plan to infect Severus so that he would be sent home to avoid infecting others.  "We'll just make sure he takes ill when his father is away.  It won't likely be for another week or two; I'm still working on getting Severus to trust me enough that I can approach him about this."

Mrs. Snape nodded again.  "Yes, you definitely don't want to rush him.  He's a very solitary boy, doesn't make friends easily, and is slow to trust.  I blame his father and myself for that.  But are you certain he will help you?"

"I think so," replied Hermione.  "All the memory evidence we have indicates that he does help us, he does miss the second half of his sixth year at Hogwarts.  Besides, I have a letter from you for him as well."

"I see," Olivia sighed.  "Well, I wish you luck with him, though I don't envy your task.  Is there anything you need me to do besides wait for the owl from the school?"

Hermione shook her head.  "No, the main thing we need from you is for you to be the one to receive the owl so that Severus' father doesn't find out he's left school."

"I can do that," said the older woman.  She walked Hermione back to the front office.  "I'm sure we'll be able to acquire just what you are looking for, Miss Houser.  I'll be sending you an owl with the price once I've made the necessary inquiries."

"Thank you, Mrs. Snape, I'll be expecting it."  Always quick on the uptake, Hermione realized the change of subject was for Horatio's benefit.  What an awful animal!  "Good day!"

***

Hermione made her way back to the school without event.  After a quick stop at the Room of Requirement for refreshment, she continued her familiarization campaign for Severus' benefit.  She walked past him in the hall twice, the second time giving him a cautious smile, which was surprisingly returned.  

A long and tedious task, this familiaration process was, she thought to herself the next day as she returned to her hideaway for lunch.  All the students and faculty were in the Great Hall for their meal, so Hermione hadn't bothered to use the Invisibility Cloak as she climbed the many staircases to the Room of Requirement.  After fixing herself a sandwich, she settled down to enjoy her lunch with some light reading.  Her plan called for another Severus encounter after his last class of the day, but she was free to relax until then.

At the appointed time, Hermione made her way down to the classroom outside of which she would "run into" Severus.  She pressed herself against the wall on the far side of the door and waited.  

The students flew out of class without noticing her, as she'd anticipated, for students were always excited to finish their last class of the day.  As was his usual pattern, Severus was the last to leave, and he ambled rather than ran through the door, giving him ample time to notice the small Slytherin girl standing there.  

When he saw her, he gave a self-satisfied smirk.  "I thought you might turn up here."

"You did?" asked Hermione, bewildered, as he grabbed her arm and dragged her back into the classroom, charming the door locked behind them.  "What are you doing?"

"Who are you?" Severus hissed, drawing his wand and pointing it at her.  "And don't tell me you're in Slytherin because last time I checked, all Slytherins, even the young ones, take their meals in the Great Hall at the same time, and I haven't seen you there once."

Bloody hell, thought Hermione.  Her familiarization campaign must have worked a little too well if he was actively seeking her out at meals.

"So unless you are a ghost," he continued, giving her a poke in the ribs with his wand, "which you seem rather too solid to be, I suggest you tell me right now just who you are, mystery girl, and why I shouldn't drag you to the Headmaster's office right now."

"No!  You can't!" exclaimed Hermione.  "I'll tell you everything, I was going to anyway, you know.  I promise I'm not here to do any harm but you mustn't tell anyone that I'm here."

Severus glared down at her, "I'm waiting for your explanation."

"Well, it's rather difficult to explain and it will definitely sound a little crazy, but . . ." she paused, trying to figure out where to start.

"Now, mystery girl," he tapped his foot, "or I go to Dumbledore."

"Oh, all right.  My name is Hermione Granger and I've come to bring you back to the future to help save the wizarding world from the forces of evil."  The words flew out of her mouth in one rapid runon sentence, leaving Severus to gape at her, wand still drawn.  He stared for a few moments before bursting into laughter.  He lowered his want, dragged his heaving body to the nearest desk and buried his head in his hands, laughing so hard he almost cried.

"What's so funny," asked Hermione in annoyance.  "I know it sounds a little nutters but it's completely true!"

"Sure it is, mystery girl!  Everyone knows that if you need someone to save the world, Severus Snape is your man," mocked Severus.  "Look, the joke's up, and I've got to hand it to you, it's definitely more original that the usual.  I give you full points for creativity.  But I'm sure your polyjuice potion will wear off soon, so then I'll know who to congratulate for this most clever prank.  I must admit I'm quite curious – it's got too much style for Black and Potter and his cronies, but I can't imagine any Slytherin being this benignly creative.  Tell me, do I have an enemy in Hufflepuff now?  This seems more their style."

"No!  Severus, I swear this isn't a prank."  Time for the big guns.  "I can prove it!"

"Really," he drawled.  "And how do you propose to do that?"

"I have a letter for you that explains everything, a letter that you'll have to believe."

"Well, hand it over then."  Severus held out his hand.

Hermione grimaced.  "I don't have it with me, it's upstairs in the room where I've been staying."

Severus snorted.  "Sure it is.  You're just trying to lure me off somewhere so one of your friends can hex me.  I understand now."

"No, I'm not!  Look, if you don't believe me, we'll wait here an hour.  If I'd taken a polyjuice potion, as you suspect, then it will wear off by then.  If not, you'll come with me to get the proof."

"Not good enough," he retorted.  "I still would have no proof you're not trying to trick me."

Hermione sighed in exasperation.  "What if I let you take my wand?  Would that convince you I'm sincere?"

"It might," he acknowledged.  "But first we wait for the polyjuice potion to wear off, because right now I still don't trust you.  You'd might as well sit down."

So Hermione took the seat next to him.  They were silent for a few moments, then she sighed.  "This will be an awfully long hour if we ignore each other."

"Fine, then," said Severus.  "You can tell me more about how I'm to save the world.  I can always use a good laugh."

So Hermione filled him in as best she could about the Dark Lord and the prophecy, being careful not to give away too many details (namely that Severus in her time was already dead!)  Severus listened intently, still shaking his head in disbelief, but playing along and asking questions.  Soon, the hour was up and Hermione of course remained unchanged in appearance.

"Shall we go," she asked, handing him her wand.

He unlocked the door.  "Lead on."

"We'll have to be a little sneaky," Hermione cautioned. "We can't let anyone see where we're going, so we'll need to use this."  She reached into her bag and pulled out Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

"Wow," exclaimed Severus, as if he'd never seen one before, suspicions temporarily forgotten in his awe.  "Where did you get _that?"_

"I borrowed it from a friend," she replied.  "We'll both fit underneath it if we stay close together."

"This really is the strangest prank, mystery girl," he sighed as he let Hermione pull the cloak over them.  "I can't wait to see this 'proof' of yours."

They made their way down the hall and up the stairs with a bit of awkwardness.  Unlike Hermione, Severus wasn't used to huddling close to another person to stay under the cloak, so their progress was slow and unsteady.  The cloak slipped off him once inbetween staircases, but luckily no one was near enough to see.  Eventually, they reached the Room of Requirement.

"I don't remember ever seeing a door here before," remarked Severus.

Hermione laughed softly.  "That's because you never _required_ a door here before."  At his quizzical expression she added, "I'll explain later."

The room was as she'd left it.  She hurried over to the chest in which she'd left the letter and extracted it for him.  "You'd better sit down."

He turned the scroll over a few times as if checking it for traps, then gingerly opened it and began to read.  Like his mother before him, Severus' face broadcast the effect the letter had on him.  His fingers clenched around the edge of the scroll as he read.  Where the mother's face had shown a dreadful sorrow, the sons displayed a simmering anger.  As his expression clouded, he reminded Hermione more of her former Potions Master than his younger self had before.  She found this strangely comforting.

He crumpled the paper between his fingers, his breathing becoming more labored.  The boy Severus looked barely in control of his emotions as he turned his steely gaze on Hermione.  She gulped and took and unconscious step backwards, but he reached out and caught her arm.

"Tell me everything.  I'm in."

Author's Note:  Some of you might think to yourself that my version of young Severus seems out of character.  I suggest that he is not, but rather that the 6th year Severus of this story is a very different person than the one we know from canon, and that his experiences make him what he is.  It is my intention that this story will explain how this vulnerable, self-deprecating young Severus becomes the embittered man we know from the books.  I hope you'll bear with me!


	6. A Plan in Motion

Warning:  This chapter contains some graphic descriptions of bodily functions that traditionally accompany illness and food poisoning.  

***

"Are you sure you want to do this," asked Hermione as Severus lifted the vial to his lips.  "It's not too late to back out."

Severus lowered the vial.  "You would let me back out now?  If what you've told me is true, then hellfire and damnation will befall our world if I _don't_ go with you."

"That's one way of putting it, yes," nodded Hermione.

"And from your perspective, I've already done this," he prodded.

"Not from mine, but from the Headmaster's and your mum's, yes."

"So why would you offer me the chance to reconsider?"  Severus honestly seemed confused.

Hermione thought a moment.  "Well, I like to think you still have the ability to make your own destiny.  Har- a friend of mine often feels that his choices have all been made for him, and it tears him apart.  I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone else."

"I see.  Well, lucky for you, I have no desire to 'back out' now."  He lifted the vial, tilted his head back, and chugged.  The foul taste made him grimace, but he eventually managed to swallow.  "That was … unpleasant.  How long do I have?"

"The fever and vomiting should start within the next couple hours.  The hives, this evening or tomorrow morning at the latest."

Severus grimaced again. "Well then, I'd best be off to class.  It won't do for me to become sick in private."

"No, a public display would be better," agreed Hermione.  A thought occurred to her, and she laughed.  "You could try to be sick on Sirius Black, you know."

"Now _that's_ a pleasant thought!"  Severus didn't look at all menacing when he laughed.  "I'll try to pull that off.  You know what to get from my room?"

Hermione nodded, "I'll get the most important things and keep them with me.  I don't want to bring everything though or the House Elves might notice things are missing when they pack up for you."

"Good thinking. Oh, you'd better take these now," Severus rifled through his bag and pulled out a small scroll.  "I'd appreciate it if you _don't_ read that, but I don't think I should have it on me when I … become ill."

"I won't.  I promise."  She tucked the scroll into her own bag.  He turned to leave.  "Wait!"

Hermione took his hand and met his confused gaze.  "Thank you.  For doing this, I mean."

Severus' cheeks became a little pink as he turned away uncomfortably, "Don't mention it.  I, uh, I'll see you at home, then."  He walked quickly to the door and departed.

Hermione sat down, shaking her head.  What had she done that for?  She knew Severus Snape didn't like to be touched.  But this boy really didn't seem much like the Snape she knew, did he?  Again she thought how like Neville this Severus was, in desperate need of self-confidence.  He was a little like Ron, too, in the way that he agreed to help despite the dangers he faced, even though he had no personal stake in the situation at all.  Lord Voldemort probably doesn't even seem real to him, yet he willingly agreed to make himself violently ill in order to travel to the future to help fight him.  That in itself takes a certain amount of bravery.  Hermione sighed again.  She'd always told Harry and Ron that Snape was brave to play the role he had; they just never chose to believe her.

***

Hermione donned the invisibility cloak and made her way toward Professor McGonagall's classroom.  If Madame Pomfrey's assurances were accurate, Severus would become ill in the middle of his Transfiguration class with the Gryffindors.  

Severus and his partner, a dour pimply girl, were attempting to transfigure a dormouse into an ornate candelabra, without much success.  "How are we supposed to make it _want_ to change?" complained the girl.  "I'd rather be a dormouse than a candelabra!"

Hermione watched as Severus rolled his eyes and tried again.  The mouse became a little brassy in color, then reverted to his natural form.  She held in a giggle as Severus made several more barely effectual attempts.

"Let me try," insisted his partner, shoving him out of the way.  Severus, weakened by the oncoming virus, lost his balance and toppled over, knocking the two children next to him and their dormouse on the floor as well.

"What on Earth is going on here," snapped Professor McGonagall, who marched over to the source of the ruckus.  All but Severus were scrambling to their feet; he remained on the floor, clutching his stomach.

"Don't be such a baby, Snivellus," whined the pimpled girl, "There's nothing wrong with him, Professor, he just tripped over his own big feet."

"Did he," drawled their teacher, giving her a sharp glare before looking back down on Severus.  "Please do me the honor of getting up off my floor, Mr. Snape."

Severus rolled onto his knees and pushed himself up on all fours.  Sweat was pooling on his forehead and his breathing had become labored as he struggled to stand.  "I'm sorry, Professor," he panted.  "I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

"That, Mr. Snape, would appear to be an understatement," replied Professor McGonagall, not unkindly as she helped Severus to his feet.  "Will you be able to direct yourself to the infirmary, or will you need someone to assist you?"

"I can make it, ooh…" he gasped as he stumbled through the gathering crowd toward the door.  He made it a few steps, and then stopped, clutching his stomach.  He turned to the left, and promptly lost his lunch all over a horrified James Potter, who knocked Sirius Black on his bum in his haste to avoid the stream of projectile vomit.  The classroom was filled with a cacophony of "Eww!"'s from the girls and laughter from the boys.  The humor of the situation crossed House boundaries, Hermione noted with surprise.  Even Remus Lupin couldn't repress his giggles at the sight of his friend covered in Snape's … outburst.

After relieving his immediate problem, Severus stumbled out the door.  Hermione made a mental note to share her observations with him later.  He'd be overjoyed to know that even Potter's friends were laughing at him.

***

"I'm afraid this is no schoolroom prank, Professor, this boy is very ill," Madame Chenowith clucked as she patted down Severus' forehead with a damp cloth.  "He's been vomiting all morning and his fever is dangerously high.  I don't understand it, none of the customary treatments are relieving his symptoms."

Hermione sat in the far corner of the room under her invisibility cloak.  Severus had the bed nearest the door, and as he was the only patient in the hospital ward, no one had cause to venture in her direction.  A professor whom Hermione realized was Severus' Head of House had come to look in his unfortunate pupil.

"You're certain this is a naturally occurring illness, Helen," asked Professor Duncan.  "I'm afraid your patient isn't the most popular boy in school.  He's often been the target of hexes and pranks in the past.  No sense of self-preservation, that one."

Madame Chenowith shook her head, "I already checked that, there is no aural signature of any kind of curse or hex.  His reactions are consistent with a very virulent virus."

"Do you know of any viruses that match his symptoms?  How much danger is he in?"

"I'm not quite sure yet, it could be one of several.  Here, keep wiping him down, I want to verify something."  The nurse handed the wet cloth to the older man before scurrying out of the room.  The Slytherin looked uncomfortable as he awkwardly attempted to follow Madame Chenowith's instructions.  The nurse returned several minutes later carrying a book.

"His symptoms correspond with two known illnesses, Professor.  The Belgravian bird flu and the Xolian plague.  The poor boy most likely has one of those," she held the book out to Professor Duncan, who read quickly and then grimaced.

The Slytherin sighed, shaking his head sadly.  "For his sake, I hope he has the bird flu. Is there any way to tell for sure?"

"Only time, Professor.  If it's the bird flu, by tomorrow he'll be covered with hives but will most likely recover given sufficient bed rest.  But if he's got the plague," her voice tapered off.  "He might not make it at all."

"How do you recommend we proceed, Helen?"

"For Severus, we can do little here," she replied.  "Neither of these diseases has an effective treatment.  But we must also consider the other students.  Both of these viruses are extremely contagious, especially in the later stages.  He needs to be kept isolated."

Professor Duncan considered for a moment.  "What is the soonest he would recover, best case scenario?"

"Several weeks, at least.  If he's got the Belgravian bird flu, that is."

"In that case, perhaps we should just send the boy home.  If we can do nothing here, I'm sure he'll recover better at home anyway. And if, Merlin forbid, he has the plague, his family will want to be with him at the end."  Professor Duncan looked down at the delirious Severus.  "Sodding bad luck."

"I think you're right, Professor," sighed the nurse.  "Do you want to tell the Headmaster or shall I?"

Professor Duncan grimaced. "I'll do it, the boy is my responsibility.  I'll talk to him right after I owl his parents.  Best to get young Snape out of here before he infects someone else."

Hermione glared on as Professor Duncan gave the cloth back to Madame Chenowith and strode out the door. The Slytherin seemed more concerned about getting Severus away from Hogwarts than he did about his student's recovery.  Maybe she was being unfair, but he could have shown a little more compassion.  She was glad Severus was too delirious to hear his Head of House's cold appraisal of his situation.

Hermione waited until Madame Chenowith left the room and then silently snuck out herself.  She'd done all she could here at Hogwarts, now she must go back to the Snape house to prepare for the sick boy's arrival.

***

As anticipated, Severus' father was away 'on business' when Hermione arrived just ahead of Professor Duncan's owl.  Mrs. Snape showed her upstairs into the house and made her some tea before Floo'ing to Hogwarts to retrieve her son.  Hermione made herself comfortable in the sitting room as she waited and pondered the mission so far.  Madame Pomfrey had been very clever in her choice of disease.  Although Madame Chenowith was correct in her assessment of the Belgravian bird flu, she had no way of knowing that not three years into her own future the development of a potion by a team of medicinal potions researchers at the University of Foggybottom would downgrade the virus into the "minor annoyance" category.  A side effect of the research was the development of a weaker strain of the virus.  Poor Severus would only suffer for a couple nights, rather than the months of painful convalescence he would have been doomed to had he contracted the disease under normal circumstances.

Hermione had just finished her tea when Mrs. Snape returned, leading a swollen and unhappy Severus through the fireplace.  She jumped up and helped bring him to the couch to rest for a little while before they made the remainder of their journey.  

After settling him down, Hermione extracted a small bottle from her pack. "This should help relieve some of the pain."  She carefully poured two small orange pills into the palm of her hand and took the glass of water that Mrs. Snape had poured for her son.  He looked suspiciously at the pills, but did not speak.

"Swallow these with water.  They're called Advil and they'll cut right through the fever and the cramping."  Her tone brooked no nonsense.  Severus' hand shook as he reached for the pills.  It shook too much.  "No, let me."

He opened his mouth and allowed her to place the pills on his tongue, then dutifully swallowed as she carefully brought the glass to his lips.  A little water dripped onto his robes, but not as much as if he'd tried to hold the glass himself in his current state.  And besides, Severus didn't seem to notice.  He leaned back and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to subside.  Hermione and Mrs. Snape watched silently as he rested.

"When do you need to leave?"  Mrs. Snape broke the silence.  Severus had stopped shaking and appeared to have fallen asleep.

Hermione surveyed the sleeping boy.  "It's all the same really, we'll arrive at the same time regardless.  If he's lucid when he wakes up, we'll leave then.  As long as we're gone before your husband returns, we'll be fine."

"Then you have some time.  He won't be back before tomorrow evening, I wager.  He never is, thank Merlin."  Hermione tried not to wear the pity she felt for Mrs. Snape's position on her face as she pretended to be watching Severus.  How dreadful it must be being married to a monster.

***

The women were having supper when Severus shuffled into the kitchenette, eyes droopy, but steady.  Mrs. Snape went to help him into a chair, but he gently shook her off. "I can do it." 

At least he was a little more gracious about accepting tea than his mother's help, thought Hermione.  Boys are so stubborn.  "How are you feeling?"

"My stomach no longer feels like it is filled with hot coals, but I wouldn't try to ride a broom for awhile," he quipped.  "What's in those 'Avdil' things, anyway?"

He must be feeling better, she grinned.  "Lots of chemicals that I can't pronounce.  I'll show you the bottle later.  Can you eat?"

"I'd better not," he shuddered.  "I'd rather not begin my trip to help save the world by puking on the floor, it lacks style."

"All right then," she laughed. "I see your sense of humor is undamaged at least.  Let me help your mum clear up a bit and then we'll be off, if you're up for it."

Severus nodded, "No reason to dawdle here, I suppose.  No offense, Mum."

Mrs. Snape was looking strangely at Severus, making Hermione feel suddenly like a fifth wheel.  "I'll just use the loo, then I'll help straighten up." 

She returned to hear low whispers between mother and son, which silenced when she entered the room.  Hermione blushed, "I can wait in the sitting room, if you want to talk for a spell."

"No, we're done," Severus stood, a little wobbly but confidently.  "Let's get our things and go."  He suffered an awkward hug from his mother and then followed Hermione into the sitting room where their things were piled.  They each took a bag, and walked to the Floo.

"When will you be back," asked Mrs. Snape. 

"We'll send him back the last day of the current school term," replied Hermione.  "Right when he would have come home anyway.  You're sure that no one will mention Severus' absence from school to Mr. Snape?"

"I'm sure," she nodded. "And if they do, I know how to handle it."  She waved her arm as if waving her wand.

"Excellent.  Thank you again for all your help, Mrs. Snape."  She pinched a bit of Floo powder from a pouch by the fireplace and tossed it in.  "The Room of Requirement, Hogwarts!"

***

"It seems we could have saved some trouble by making the jump from my house," suggested Severus.  "No offense, but I'm probably going to need some more of your little pills soon."

"That's why we had to sneak back here, actually.  We'll go forward from outside the dungeon and then go straight to the infirmary."  She pulled out the invisibility cloak and draped it over them.  "Try to stay close to me this time."

"Try not to stomp on my feet then," retorted Severus, but he moved closer to her anyway and they made their way out the door and down to the dungeons.  The students were at dinner, so they passed no one in the halls.

"By the way," whispered Hermione as she extracted the Time-Turner.  "I was kidding about being sick on Sirius Black."

"I wasn't," answered Severus.  And then time turned.

*** 

A/N:  Sorry for the long delay!  Thank you VERY much to all who reviewed!  I'm glad my characterization of Teen!Severus is going over well, I'm almost obsessive about trying to keep characters in character so I was a little worried.  I really hope the next chapter won't be as delayed as this one was!


	7. Sorting Severus

One minute they were alone, and the next Professor Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey were speaking softly to each other not two feet in front of them.  Severus startled a bit, understanding time turning in theory was no substitute for experience.  A quick glance around the hallway let Hermione know that it was safe to appear.  She removed the cloak and greeted them. "I hope we didn't keep you waiting long."

The nurse and the Headmaster turned toward them.  Professor Dumbledore's eyes lit with recognition, while Madame Pomfrey's became teary at the sight of a young, living Severus.

"Not at all, Miss Granger, you've not been gone five minutes."  Professor Dumbledore turned to her companion.  "I see your mission was successful.  Thank you, Severus, for agreeing to help us."

"I'm not doing it for you," retorted Severus, to Hermione's surprise.  She turned and saw a rebellious expression in his teenage eyes.  "I don't owe _you_ any favors."

Professor Dumbledore sighed and nodded.  "I understand, and you are quite right.  Please allow me to introduce you to Madame Pomfrey, our school nurse."

"It is so good to see you again, Severus!" burst Madame Pomfrey.  "I know it hasn't happened yet, but your older self and I worked together for many years."

Severus nodded in acknowledgement. "Madame Pomfrey.  I'm surprised Madame Chenowith isn't still here though, I didn't think wild thestrals could drag her from Hogwarts."

"Actually, in a manner of speaking they did.  Madame Chenowith's son and daughter-in-law were killed many years ago, so she left Hogwarts to take care of her grandchildren.  Madame Pomfrey took over her position and has filled it very competently since then."  

Madame Pomfrey blushed a little at the Headmaster's words.  "We should get you to the infirmary, Severus.  That's one nasty virus we've given you and I'd like to keep a close eye on you until it has run its course."

"Yes," agreed Professor Dumbledore.  "Once you're feeling better we will all meet to discuss how we shall proceed from here.  There will be a lot for you to learn and remember, Severus, so we must get you healthy first."

Severus turned to Hermione.  "Are you coming with me?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but the Headmaster beat her to it.  "Miss Granger must be getting back to her dormitory before she is missed."  He continued as Hermione started to protest.  "However, I'm sure she will find the time to visit you before breakfast."

* * *

"Tell me again, from the beginning."  After two days hidden away in the infirmary, Severus had completely recovered from his bout of Belgravian bird flu and was now rehearsing his cover story with Hermione.

"My name is Geoffrey Horton.  I have lived in Barbados for most of my life, although I was born in Manchester.  My father recently passed away so my mother moved us back home to be close to her family.  He was a wizard, but my mum is a muggle."  To his credit, Severus managed to say this without sounding like he was reciting a memorized speech.

"Where did you go to school, Geoffrey?"

"There aren't any wizarding schools on Barbados, so the wizard parents all ran a cooperative after-school programme for their kids.  I'd attend the muggle school all day and then afterwards have wizarding subjects from the Clan."

"The Clan?" asked Hermione.

Severus smiled, "That's what the wizarding community on the island calls itself.  It's very small and very familial, like a clan."

Hermione looked down at her papers.  "I don't see that in here."

"That's because it's not there.  I made it up.  Really, Hermione, someone might ask a question that's not covered by this carefully crafted back-story, so I will just have to be creative if it happens."    

"I suppose so," she replied dubiously.  "I just hope you don't get tangled up in the details."

"I won't," he promised.  "Besides, I seriously doubt anyone is going to pay much attention to me anyway.  You might have noticed when you were shadowing me, but I don't exactly do the 'friend thing' well."

"Sev- Geoffrey," she corrected herself.  "While you are here you have a clean slate.  No one knows you, no one has any preconceived notions about you, and besides, you have at least one friend here already.  Me.  Which means by extension you have my friends as well.  And once you've been resorted, you'll probably make even more."

"Resorted?"  Sev- Geoffrey's eyes widened.  "What are you talking about?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "Surely you didn't think you could live in Slytherin, where half of the students have families that are working for the other side.  No, it would be too dangerous.  Professor Dumbledore says that the sorting hat will have another look at you when you officially start attending classes.  You're to specifically ask NOT to be in Slytherin."

"I doubt that old hat would listen to anything I said," quipped Severus.  Geoffrey.  She must remember to think of him as Geoffrey.  Geoffrey.  Geoffrey.  Geoffrey!  

"Oh, it will listen!  It wanted to put my friend Harry into Slytherin but he insisted he didn't want to go there.  So it put him in Gryffindor with me."  

Sev- Geoffrey's eyes snapped accusingly toward her.  "You're a GRYFFINDOR?  I thought you were a Slytherin!"

"Oh, I forgot I hadn't told you yet.  No, I'm a Gryffindor.  I just pretended to be a Slytherin so you would talk to me.  You know you wouldn't have said two words to me if you'd known!"

"Oh, I'd have said two words, all right… So I suppose you were lying about Black then too.  After all, he's a Gryffindor like you."  S- Geoffrey sneered derisively.

Hermione glared back at him.  "No, Black did deserve it.  I know very well that he was a prat when he was in school and that he treated you abominably.  Not everyone judges people by what house they are in, you know."

"Maybe not everybody, but most people in my acquaintance do.  You can hardly fault me for assuming you wouldn't be any different."  The anger seemed to drain from him.  "But if I misjudged you, I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry, I probably would have been a bit put out if I were in your situation as well.  But back to the sorting – now don't hex me, but I think you should ask to be put in Gryffindor."  She mentally cringed, waiting for the shouting to begin.  But it didn't.

"Let me guess.  You want me to be in Gryffindor where I can stay close to you and your friends and we can work on our secret plot to save the world in private."  His words were soft and resigned.

Hermione nodded.  "Something like that, yes."

"All right.  Since I'm not really me while I'm here anyway I'll play this game and become a Gryffindor.  It should prove amusing, if nothing else."

"That's the spirit!" Hermione beamed. 

Madame Pomfrey strode in, carrying a tray that held a potion and a glass of water.  "Good morning, Severus, you'll be needing to take this now."

"Geoffrey." Hermione corrected her softly.  "I keep forgetting myself."

"Well, once he drinks this it will be easier for us to remember."

"What is it," asked Geoffrey. "I thought the flu was cured?"

"It is," replied the nurse as she handed him the potion.  "This is for your disguise.  It's a melanin enhancer.  You'll need to take some every day while you're here.  It will make your skin grow darker.  We need to eliminate as much resemblance to yourself as we can, and without using magic."

"Why is that?" asked Geoffrey.

Hermione answered for the nurse. "Because magic can be detected.  On the off chance that anyone becomes suspicious of you, we can't let them discover that your appearance has been altered.  They might think to look for magical alterations but they wouldn't even know how to look for muggle methods."

"Exactly," agreed Madame Pomfrey.  "In fact, I'll be visiting Farsgrove this afternoon to acquire the potion to disguise your hair."

"Ooh," cooed Hermione.  "Are you going to dye it?"

The nurse shook her head.  "No, with the new darker skin tone that would look artificial.  We're going to curl it."

Geoffrey buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in dismay.  "I'm going to look like a woofter."

"No, you're not!" insisted Hermione.  "I bet you'll look adorable!"

The beleaguered boy shook his head.  "That's not possible.  I'll look like a prize fool."

Hermione teased gently, "Well, it's a good thing you'll be in Gryffindor then."

He looked up at her and despite trying valiantly to rein it in, he burst out laughing.

* * *

Hermione yawned as she sat down next to Ron at the Gryffindor table for dinner.  Although she was accustomed to staying up late to study, since she returned from the past she'd been working her normal load as well as sneaking off to the infirmary help Geoffrey prepare for his coming introduction to the Hogwarts of today.  

"Hermione, I think you're working too hard," said Ron with concern.  "Even for you, I mean.  You look beat."

She smiled back at him.  "Oh, I'm fine.  Just a little sleepy is all.  How was Quidditch practice?"

Ron launched into a long explanation of the details of the day's practice.  Hermione tuned out about the time he started describing the maneuverability drills the team was performing.  She liked Ron a lot, maybe even loved him, but Quidditch was mighty boring.  She felt no guilt at using it as a subject to bring up whenever she needed to distract him, but she did feel slightly guilty at being unable to care much about the game itself.  Right now, she was nervous.  Nervous about how Geoffrey's introduction would go this evening.

Tink-tink-tink.  Professor Dumbledore tapped lightly on his water goblet to get everyone's attention.  "Good evening, everyone!  I have an announcement to make before we begin our supper."

"We have a new student joining us at Hogwarts.  He previously lived on the island of Barbados, but has transferred here as his family has recently returned to England.  Although his previous wizarding education has been less formalized than what we are accustomed to, his age places him in the Sixth year class.  I hope you will all make him welcome, even if you do not share the same House."  Professor Dumbledore motioned towards the side door, and then Hagrid entered with a stool in one hand and the Sorting Hat in the other.  Hagrid set these in the center of the room in front of the head table.  Professor McGonagall entered from the main doors, followed by a tall, dark boy with chin-length curly hair.   The boy gazed around nervously as he entered, looking up to take in the spectacular sights in the Great Hall.  He came forward and stopped as the Hat began to sing.

"Sorry for the minimal song,

it takes a year to make one long.

Most of you know the drill,

Find him a House, that I will.

Will he be a Ravenclaw,

Smart and wise, tra la la.

Or will it be brave Gryffindor,

Red and gold, forever more.

House Hufflepuff may be the choice,

If loyalty has the strongest voice.

Or Slytherin may be the place,

if he has an ambitious face.

Again, if you find my rhymes are bad,

Remember how little time I had!"

Students and faculty alike giggled at the uncharacteristic silliness of the hats song.  It was clearly not its best work, but as it pointed out it had a good excuse.

Professor McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat and called out the boy's name.  "Horton, Geoffrey!"  The whispers that had started when Professor Dumbledore spoke the words 'new student' dropped off as all waited to hear the Sorting Hat's verdict.  

* * *

Severus approached the stool and sat down, peering up nervously as the hat was placed upon his head.

"Haven't we been here before," asked the Sorting Hat.  "I can't believe I wrote a song, albeit a bad one, for this."  
  


"No, wait!" Severus thought.  "I can't be sorted into Slytherin again."

"Whyever not," asked the hat.  "Are you telling me I was wrong before?"

Severus rushed to reassure him.  "No, of course not.  But this is a very delicate situation.  People could die if I'm sorted into Slytherin.  I'm supposed to be sorted into Gryffindor."

"Are you?  I don't think so.  You've got too much deep-seated antipathy for Gryffindor to ever be successful in that house."  The hat pondered a moment, then continued.  "What house do you _really _want to be in?"

Severus thought a moment.  "I don't know, I just want to _belong _somewhere.  Really _belong_.  I certainly never felt like a real Slytherin."

"Well then," said the hat. "Since we've ruled out Gryffindor, that leaves two choices.  But where to put you?  You are intelligent, yes, very intelligent.  You would be one of the brightest minds, even in Ravenclaw.  But you want to be accepted, and that takes a special House, a truly special House that will welcome you as you are.  Better be HUFFLEPUFF!"

Severus wasn't sure what had shocked him more; being sorted into Hufflepuff, the house of duffers, or the thunder of applause that greeted him as he made his way toward the Hufflepuff table.  Several students moved down to make room for him, and a couple people even clapped him on the back in welcome.  He certainly hadn't gotten this kind of welcome as a first-year Slytherin!

"Geoffrey!  Over here!"  A pair of boys who looked approximately his own age were waving excitedly at him.  Severus approached them and sat down where they indicated.

"We're mighty glad to have you here, Geoffrey!  I don't think we've ever had a student from such an exciting place before!  You'll have to tell us all about it sometime.  Anyway, I'm Ernie.  Ernie MacMillan.  And this here," nodding to the curly-haired boy across from him, "is Justin Finch-Fletchley."

Justin shook his hand eagerly.  "Great to meet you, Geoffrey!  And great you're in Hufflepuff.  It's a fine House, don't listen to anyone who tells you otherwise."

A third boy, sitting next to Justin, was the next to introduce himself.  "I'm Wayne Hopkins, keeper for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.  Do you play Quidditch?"

"A little, and not very well," answered Severus dubiously.

Wayne's face beamed at 'Geoffrey's' response.  "That's excellent!"

"It is?" asked Severus.  He strongly suspected this 'Wayne' was making fun of him.

"Really!  We're a bit short on Quidditch talent here in Hufflepuff.  If you play 'not very well', then you're already better than most of us."

Justin agreed.  "Most of us are down-right awful."

"Hey, Zacharias," Wayne shouted down the table.  "I think we've found you another chaser!  Horton here plays 'a little'."

The boy who must be Zacharias responded with a smile and a 'thumbs up' sign.  Severus wondered whether the House Elves had been spiking the Hufflepuff pumkin juice, because these people were all acting too strangely.  Look on the bright side, he told himself.  At least they weren't calling him names or stealing his things.  Yet.

A/N: Farsgrove is the same nearby muggle village I used in Queer Eye for the Snape Guy.  (I like to be consistent between fics).  From canon we have little information about the makeup of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team beyond Cedric and Zachariah, so I had to make it up.


	8. Being Geoffrey

Someone was shaking him.  Geoffrey woke with a start, instinctively scrambling away from whoever was touching him.  

"Easy, chap," an amused voice rang out, piercing through Geoffrey's panic.  "It's just me, Geoffrey.  I didn't think you'd want to sleep through breakfast."

Geoffrey's eyes came into focus and he saw the cheery face of his new roommate, Justin, smiling down at him.  Upon hearing himself addressed as Geoffrey, he bit back the sharp retort that had first come to mind.  Geoffrey wouldn't say things like that.  He mustn't make enemies here.

"Sorry, you just startled me, is all.  Thank you."  Geoffrey pulled himself out of bed and began scrounging for his clothes, most of which were still packed in the trunk by his bed.  He chuckled to himself at the sight of the Hufflepuff colors on his new tie, not being a Slytherin would take some getting used to.

Justin was talking to him again.  "Breakfast is from seven until eight-thirty, classes usually start at nine sharp, though on Thursdays I don't actually have class until ten.  We'll have some of our classes altogether, like Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Charms, but depending on which NEWTs you'll be sitting for … you do know what NEWTs are?... Anyway, you may have some different electives.  Do you have your schedule yet?"

"It's over there," Geoffrey nodded towards his desk as he pulled his trousers up and began to button them.

"Hmm… let's see… well, I'm not taking Muggle Studies; that would be silly.  And Arithmancy's not my thing either, nor potions, but I'll be with you for the rest."

"Silly?  Why would Muggle Studies be silly?"  Geoffrey didn't think he'd find any pureblood supremacists in Hufflepuff, no matter how prevalent they were in Slytherin.

Justin laughed easily.  "I forgot, you don't know.  I'm muggleborn – all set to attend Eton before I got my letter.  So I could probably teach Muggle Studies if Professor Wentworth left.  But anyway, I think Ernie's taking Potions and Arithmancy with you, and Susan's in Muggle Studies, so you'll always have some friendly faces to sit with."

_That would be a novelty_, thought Geoffrey, buttoning his shirt.  "Great."

"Well, I'll let you finish getting ready.  I'll wait for you in the Common Room.  Cheerio!"

_This is all too good to be true.  I'm sure before the day is out, Justin and his friends will be doing their best to avoid me,_ Geoffrey remarked to himself as he finished dressing.

***

But the other Hufflepuffs greeted him warmly as he entered the Common Room and again when they met up with more at the breakfast table.  Some of the more curious students, like Ernie and Hannah, asked him questions about himself and his life in Barbados, but Geoffrey could detect no malice in their tone.  They seemed to simply be curious about their new Housemate.

Dozens of owls flew into the Great Hall for the morning mail delivery.  To his surprise, a large brown owl dropped a letter in Geoffrey's lap.  Curious as to who possibly would be writing him _now_, he opened it and read silently:

_Dear Mr. Horton,_

_The Headmaster has arranged with Miss Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor in your year, to assist you in catching up with our curriculum.  Please meet Miss Granger at __four o'clock__ this afternoon in the Charms classroom to commence your studies._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor P. Sprout_

_Head of Hufflepuff House_

_P.S.  Congratulations on being sorted into the **best** house!  We're so pleased to have you with us!_

Geoffrey couldn't help but grin.  If Professor Sprout knew who he _really_ was, she wouldn't be so friendly – the Herbology professor _he'd_ known had been none too pleased with him after Potter and his cronies had knocked over a whole row of belladonna seedlings and managed to blame him for it.  Then again, Geoffrey was certain that Professor Sprout hadn't thought of Severus Snape in about twenty years.

***

Most of his classes went very smoothly.  As promised, either Justin or one of the other Hufflepuffs partnered with him in each class and seemed happy to do it.  His professors all gave him a warm welcome as well.  It seemed no one disliked a new Hufflepuff – except of course the Slytherins.

Hufflepuff and Slytherin shared a common Charms class, just as they had in his day.  About halfway through the practical part of the class, Geoffrey noticed a small group of Slytherin boys eyeing him with hostility.  He tried to ignore them; they were no different from the majority of the students of his own time, who teased him on a daily basis.  He knew he _looked_ more presentable than his normal self, and certainly had never spoken to these boys, so what did they have to mock Geoffrey about?

He was soon to find out.  After the class was dismissed, Geoffrey stopped in the hall to peek at his schedule and then found himself surrounded by Slytherin boys.  The ones on either side of him were very big and looked very stupid, but the one in the middle seemed different.  He was a pale blonde boy of average build who looked clever, cunning, and mean.

It was that one who snatched the schedule from his hands.  "Let's see what classes Hogwarts' newest pillock is taking.  He must be a moron or a mudblood to have ended up in Hufflepuff."

"Or both," added the thug on the left.

The blonde boy chuckled nastily, repeating, "Or both.  Very good, Goyle, I'm impressed.  Now let's see… Muggle Studies… how quaint.  And Divination… it won't take a Crystal Ball to see what's in _your_ future, and …"

"Is there a problem here, Malfoy?"  Ernie MacMillan had walked up from behind Geoffrey and was now standing beside him, confronting the Slytherins.  _A Malfoy.__  I should have guessed_, thought Geoffrey.

"Just helping the… new boy… with his schedule," sneered Malfoy.  "We wouldn't want him to get … lost … now, would we?"

Ernie rolled his eyes, unfooled.  "Sure, Malfoy, everyone knows you've got a heart of gold.  Why don't you find some Slytherin first years to pick on and stay away from my friend here, are we clear?"

"And if I don't?" challenged Malfoy, looking down at the plump boy who'd stood up to him.

"If you don't, well, there's no rule against prefects docking points from other prefects, now, is there?  I'd keep that in mind, if you want Slytherin to have any chance at all at winning the House Cup this year.  Not that they will anyway.  Come on, Geoffrey, I'll walk with you to Potions, I'm headed there myself."  Ernie snatched the schedule out of Malfoy's hands and gave it back to Geoffrey.  The two Hufflepuffs pushed past the Slytherins and made their way toward the dungeons.

"Pay no attention to Malfoy, he's just a little prat.  He's always been rotten, but he's been unbearable since his father was killed by aurors a few months ago.  That Draco is a Death Eater in training, if I ever saw one."

"Death Eater?" asked Geoffrey, curious.  The term was unfamiliar to him.

"Follower of You-Know-Who, the dark lord.  You _are_ from far away, aren't you?"  teased Ernie gently.  "Malfoy's dad Lucius was supposedly some kind of lieutenant in You-Know-Who's inner circle.  He was arrested once and sent to Azkaban, but he escaped soon after.  The Death Eaters had a big raid planned, but the aurors had been tipped off about it and were waiting for them.  Malfoy and some of the other Death Eaters were killed, along with several aurors and even one of our professors.  Well, here we are!"  They'd arrived in the dungeon where the Potions class met.  The room looked remarkably similar to when he'd last seen it.  Geoffrey followed Ernie to a table in the second row and sat beside him, thinking about what he'd just learned until Professor Norman arrived and began his lecture.

Ironically enough, this lesson was one Geoffrey'd had just last week, so he only halfway paid attention, confident he could brew this one without any difficulty from memory.  He looked around the room to see who was in class with them.  A lone Slytherin girl he didn't recognize sat frowning next to her Ravenclaw partner.  Three other pairs of Ravenclaws sat clustered in the corner of the first and second rows.  Hermione was there too, in the middle of the first row, seated next to a dark-haired Gryffindor boy who looked strangely familiar in a way Geoffrey couldn't quite place.

Geoffrey's eyes remained fixed on Hermione as she attentively alternated between taking notes and staring intently at the Professor.  She seemed oblivious to the class around her, totally focused on the lesson.  Geoffrey found himself wondering if she paid this close attention to all her classes, or if she liked Potions specially, before chiding himself about wasting time on such frivolous thoughts.  He was here to do a job, after all, not to ponder the intricacies of Hermione's character.  Why had _she_ been chosen to retrieve him, though?

As predicted, Geoffrey had no difficulty performing the practical part of the lesson, even stopping Ernie from adding the beeswax until the maple had fully dissolved (much to his Housemate's relief!)  So while he worked, his eyes wandered occasionally to Hermione and her partner.  He was a small, skinny boy with messy black hair and bright green eyes, and still Geoffrey couldn't shake the feeling that he should know who he is.  Geoffrey watched the two Gryffindors interact, silently assessing the nature of their relationship.  Hermione was obviously the leader; she frequently gave the boy instruction as to how to slice his ingredients or to stir the cauldron more slowly.  Geoffrey stifled a smirk as the boy nearly made the same mistake as Ernie.  

The two were obviously friendly – but was that all?  Geoffrey didn't notice any sappy giggling, blushing, or "accidental touching" that would have been clearly indicative of an attachment between them, but he would reserve judgment for now.  He found himself hoping that they were just friends, but why?  He hardly knew the girl, and it wasn't like she were particularly attractive?  But then again, she was the only girl who'd ever been even remotely friendly to him.  That could be tainting his impressions.  

But Hermione's friendliness had an ulterior motive, Geoffrey reminded himself.  She'd needed him to trust her in order to approach him about the "assignment".  And now, she'd been given the task of "tutoring" him, no doubt a ruse to give them an excuse to work together on the problem of fulfilling this prophecy he was involved in.  No doubt she had no interest in him personally; she wouldn't likely have any more to do with him than necessary.  Geoffrey had convinced himself of the matter by the time he finished helping Ernie clean up their equipment.

But when Geoffrey exited the dungeon, Hermione and her Potions partner were standing outside the door, waiting for him.  She waved him over.

  
"Geoffrey?  I'm Hermione Granger, and I'll be helping you after school.  I just wanted to welcome you to Hogwarts, and introduce you to my friend, Harry."  Hermione was smiling as she pretended this was their first meeting.

_Friend, not boyfriend_.  "Hello, Hermione.  Nice to meet you.  And Harry."  Geoffrey hoped he was acting suitably friendly.  Such extroversion was alien to him and he had no experience with which to compare it.  

The three began walking up the stairs toward the main part of the castle.  "Good to meet you, too.  I hear you're going to be playing Quidditch?" asked Harry with a smile.

"I don't know.  Some of the others mentioned it at supper last night, but I thought they were joking," replied Geoffrey.

Harry laughed.  "I doubt it.  Not to be cruel, but the Hufflepuff team needs all the help it can get.  Ever since…" Harry's voice dropped off and his expression became serious.  "Well, for awhile."

Hermione also became solemn at the mention of whatever it was they weren't sharing with him.  "I'm sure you two will have plenty of time to discuss Quidditch, but for now, we'd better get to class.  Harry, could you tell Ron I'll see him at dinner but I'll be helping Geoffrey until then?"

"Sure," nodded Harry.  "Well, nice to meet you, Geoffrey.  I'm sure I'll see you around.  Maybe even on the Quidditch field!"

"Bye, Geoffrey!" smiled Hermione.  "I'll see you at four.  You know where to go?"

Geoffrey nodded. "I'll be there."  He watched as the two departed together.  _Who was Ron?_

_**_

_A/N:  This chapter isn't particularly long, but it took awhile to formulate because it is important to see how Severus/Geoffrey adapts and reacts to his new surroundings and the people around him.  Not a lot of 'action' here, but if you remember that he doesn't really know anything about his future life, you'll see a lot of interesting information dropped his way._


	9. Shock and Aftershock

Hermione was already waiting for him when he arrived for "tutoring" that afternoon. She had a stack of books in front of her, as if their purpose was really to catch him up on the Hogwarts sixth year curriculum. _Perhaps she feared someone would wander in and catch them not "studying"?_

"So how was your first day?" she greeted him brightly, as if it really were his first day at Hogwarts.

Geoffrey shrugged. "Fine, I suppose. Though that Draco Malfoy is as big a swot as his father ever was."

"Yes," laughed Hermione. "He is, isn't he? Although you didn't…" She broke off, looking shocked.

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't … have the advantage of being sorted into Slytherin this time. I'm sure he'd have taken to you if you had," she finished lamely.

Geoffrey strongly suspected she'd devised that explanation on the spot. He realized though that prying would likely be useless; she probably felt that whatever she'd originally intended to say would distort the time line or something like that.

So he said nothing, and Hermione continued speaking nonchalantly. "Professor Dumbledore should be here any moment. He wants to get us started in determining how you'll fulfill the prophecy, but it would be too suspicious for him to work with us every day."

"Well, that is a relief. The less I see of him the better. As for the prophecy. I've been wanting to learn more about it; you really didn't tell me much before –"

"All in good time, Geoffrey." He whirled around to see that Professor Dumbledore had appeared behind him. How did he do that? "All in good time. Won't you be seated?"

Dumbledore motioned to the chair next to Hermione and it slid back away from the table in response, waiting for him to sit down. Reluctantly Geoffrey seated himself, and then looked pointedly back at the headmaster as if to say, "Now what?"

The old man looked to Hermione and asked, "How much have you told him?"

"Just that we need his help to defeat You-Know-Who," she answered. "None of the specifics."

"I see," sighed Dumbledore, turning back to address Geoffrey. "You must understand we have a very tricky situation here, my boy. We need to furnish you with sufficient information for you to fulfill your part in the prophecy, but must be wary of disseminating knowledge which might change your future. I find that the knowledge that your future has already occurred gives me little comfort; the mechanics of time work in strange and dangerous ways and even the slightest knowledge might upset it irrevocably. Therefore, I ask you to trust me to tell you that which you must know, and to not concern yourself overly with that which I am not free to tell you."

Geoffrey snickered. "I don't _trust_ you at all. You may have forgotten by now, but you proved to me just how little my life matters to you when Black sent me to be eaten by a werewolf!"

"I assure you I have not forgotten, dear boy," Dumbledore replied sadly. "I have long since wished there had been a better way to handle the situation, one that would have protected Remus as well as been fair to you. But, angry as I was with Sirius, I could not allow Remus to be sacrificed in order to punish him publicly."

"So you said at the time." Geoffrey didn't believe him any more now than he did the first time. "Just don't think any of this is about my trusting you, because it most definitely is not."

"Be that as it may, there is much we cannot tell you. Once you go back to your own time you will need to proceed with your life as you would have, and as you have in my own history. So I must ask you again not to seek out information about the past twenty years. It is unfortunate enough that some details about the future cannot be concealed, but this is unavoidable for reasons which will eventually become apparent. And of course there are some things best told gently. Miss Granger," he turned to Hermione. "There are certain facts dealing with matters of the school's faculty that I fear must be revealed. I trust that you will be able to introduce the subject in an appropriate manner?"

Hermione gulped at his request, but nodded slowly. The headmaster continued. "Very well. The task we have before us is a daunting one. We know from the prophecy that you, Geoffrey, will help one of your classmates to _blind_ Voldemort. I feel that this choice of words may be significant; the seer did not merely say "kill," or "vanquish" or any general sort of word but specifically stated that you will _blind_ him. I feel this is where your research must begin. We do not know when or how you will accomplish this. It is our mission to discover a way."

The aging professor cleared his throat. "It may be possible to find clues as to how we might proceed. I suspect, Miss Granger, that you will be able to determine the best place for the two of you to start your search for these clues."

Again Hermione nodded. Geoffrey realized that there was much she hadn't told him during her recruitment efforts.

"Splendid. I too will attempt to discover what I can, though I suspect much of the onus will fall on the two of you. We mustn't meet openly or we will generate suspicion. However, either of you may contact me through Professor McGonagall. Simply end your daily Transfiguration assignment with the words "More study would be required to verify these findings," and I shall make arrangements for us to meet.

"More study shall be required to verify these findings," repeated Hermione. "I understand."

"Well then, I shall leave you to it. Best of luck to you both." He turned to exit through the back door, and then disappeared.

Geoffrey made a face at his exiting body. "Typical! He leaves us to do all the work! We're just students," he grumbled. "How are we supposed to figure this out without any guidance? Somehow I don't think a simple Conjunctivitus curse will do the trick, or you wouldn't have needed _me_ to perform it."

"No, I imagine not," agreed Hermione, who was staring off into space as if distracted. "I think some of this will make more sense to you shortly. Come with me!"

She stood and held her hand out. Geoffrey eyed it suspiciously; people just didn't try to hold his hand. She retracted her hand, frowning. _Good going_, thought Geoffrey. _Now you've probably insulted her_. "Where are we going?"

"I need to show you something. Come on!" Hermione strode purposefully toward the door.

Geoffrey followed, wondering if he'd finally get some real answers or whether this would turn out to be a totally useless "bit of information". They walked down the corridor past the armour gallery and into the trophy room.

"Now where is it?" Hermione was mumbling to herself as she browsed a wall of Quidditch Cup photographs. "Ah, here we are. No, wait!"

He had been about to take a closer look at the nearest photograph but turned to face his companion. "I brought you here because there are some things that you need to know. About your future."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to learn about my future," asked Geoffrey, with just a hint of bitterness.

"Well, this is one thing you will need to know. As Professor Dumbledore said, there are certain things that you might find out by accident on your own, and it's much better that you find out now when we're alone and you can react naturally to them." Hermione pointed to one of the pictures in the glass case to her left. "Do you recognize anyone in this photograph, Geoffrey?"

He leaned in to look. It was a photograph of the members of Slytherin House (he could tell by their uniforms) and it appeared that they were holding the House Cup. He scanned the faces of the students, who glared back at him defiantly but didn't really recognize anyone.

"This tall one looks a bit like Antonius Flint," he offered, pointing out a mean looking boy who snapped at his finger.

"Yes, that's his son, Marcus," agreed Hermione. "Anyone else?"

He looked them over again, then shook his head.

"What about their Head of House, Geoffrey?" she prompted gently.

_Their Head of House_? Geoffrey hadn't even noticed him, as he was standing off to the side… he felt his heart lurch. The professor looked like an older version of himself! "You've got to be kidding me."

Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder, and this time he resisted the urge to flinch. "No, Geoffrey, it's _you_. You're going to become a Hogwarts' teacher when you grow up."

"Impossible," he insisted, his ire rising. "I _hate_ Hogwarts! I've been miserable here ever since I was a first year. There's no way I would ever come back here willingly after graduation. Ever."

"Nevertheless, you do come back to teach here," Hermione assured him sadly, finally removing her hand. "It's already happened. I know – you were _my_ Professor too."

Geoffrey could tell she wasn't lying, but he still found it difficult to believe her. If he knew anything, he knew that what he said was true. He had been counting the days until he would graduate and be free from the school and those in it who had been making his life a living hell. But the picture before him seemed to prove her statements. He was in that picture. Professor Severus was looking strangely back at Geoffrey, as if both recognizing him and not at the same time. Still, he didn't want to believe it. "So what did I teach, anyway? McGonagall's still here so I know it wasn't transfiguration. Not that that ever was my best subject anyway. Trelawney's new, but I'm certainly no seer. Unless I _did _carry back all sorts of forbidden knowledge from my time here now, yes, then people would think I was a seer..."

Hermione laughed, interrupting his train of thought. "No, you're not a seer, thank goodness. You taught Potions. You were the Potions master."

"Potions master… that sounds so prestigious. Kind of nifty. But I still don't see why I'd ever become a teacher! It's not like I love children or anything like that." None of this made sense.

Hermione sighed. "I don't know exactly why you decided to teach, Geoffrey. But you were Hogwarts' Potions master and Head of Slytherin House for many years."

"Hmph," grumbled Geoffrey. "Well, at least I came to my senses eventually, seeing as I'm obviously not still here. I take it that's why you brought me here. Your version of me left, and you couldn't find him, so you had to do something drastic?"

Hermione was shaking her head so Geoffrey tried again. "Or maybe, I didn't want to help you! I'd probably finally broken free of that crackpot Dumbledore and I told him what he could do with his prophecy!" He liked that version much better.

"Not exactly." Hermione bit her lip, as if uncertain what to say next. She took him by the arm, leading him across the room. In his curiosity Geoffrey forgot to be shocked that she was touching him. "There's one more thing you need to see."

She stopped in front of a tall crystal case and turned to look at him. Her eyes were shiny, as if she were trying not to cry. Geoffrey was surprised, but before he could comment she pointed to a small statuette. It was oddly shaped, like a small cauldron. He bent down to read the inscription.

"For services to the school

and all Wizard-Kind

To Severus Snape,

Respected Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House

Killed in Action

October 13, 1996"

Geoffrey stumbled back as if he'd been kicked. Hermione caught his arm, keeping him from crashing into the case behind him, but he pulled out of her grasp. He couldn't breathe. He turned and ran, out the door. He had to get away.

He ran down, down, down, desperate to be alone. He was going to die. He wanted to lock himself in his room and bury himself under the covers and tell himself that this was all a dream. He was going to die. He wanted to go back to his own time and forget any of this had ever happened. He was going to die.

He didn't realize just where he was going until an angry voice shouted, "Just where do you think you're going, Hufflepuff?"

Shite. Geoffrey realized that he'd automatically run down to the dungeon and was now just outside the entrance to Slytherin House, where no Hufflepuff should be. He would find no solace there.

He shot an expletive back at the older boy before turning to charge back the way he came. He didn't want to go to his new room; the Hufflepuffs were too cheery and would no doubt ask lots of annoying questions about what was wrong. He could hardly tell them he was upset because he'd just discovered that he was _dead._

He ran back up, up, up towards the library. He could hide there. Madame Pince shushed him as he stormed in, so he forced himself to walk calmly and quietly back to the furthest of the stacks. He was somewhere between Magical Fungi and Carnivorous Ferns when he fell to his knees. He rocked back to lean against the shelves, burying his face in his arms.

He was dead. He was dead. He was dead. The sentence kept repeating itself in his mind. He'd never left this hellhole of a school and then he'd died. He'd known of course that he'd die someday, but he'd thought he would at least get to do something fun first. But this future left him with nothing to look forward to.

He felt his chin quiver. He would not cry, he told himself. But the tears formed anyway. They fell silently down his cheeks as he mourned the pathetic life he hadn't lived yet.

"Geoffrey?"

He didn't bother to look up. He knew Hermione's voice well enough to recognize it. "Go away."

She put a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off, this time not caring if he offended her. He was dead, what did it matter?

"I wish I hadn't needed to tell you all that. Really I do. But you would have found out eventually! Almost no one knows who you really are, anyone could have mentioned Professor Snape in passing and then you might have blown your cover," Hermione explained in a soft voice.

"Blown my cover?" he whispered fiercely. "Blown my COVER? You just told me I'm _dead_, Hermione. I couldn't care less about my cover!"

"I know. I really am sorry. But this is so important! You don't know just how bad You-Know-Who is! You haven't seen the horrors we have! I wish there had been another way, one that wouldn't be so awful for you. But Professor Dumbledore said –"

Geoffrey snorted. "It's always 'what Dumbledore said!' He's never cared who gets hurt, as long as it serves the 'greater good.'"

"I know," replied Hermione softly. "Personally I think it's disgusting how he uses schoolchildren to fight this war. But what if he's right, and it is the only way? Letting You-Know-Who win is unthinkable. We must stop him."

She looked around. "We shouldn't be talking here. Anyone could hear us. Come back with me, and then you can shout at me all you like."

Geoffrey wanted to argue the point, but saw that no good could come of their being discovered. "Very well."

The two walked silently out of the library and then Hermione led him up several more flights of stairs, back to the strange room she'd taken him when he'd confronted her back in his own time. The room looked different this time; it no longer resembled a bed-sit. It did, however, resemble his own room back in Slytherin House. Books were stacked neatly on his desk, and his ramshackle Cleansweep was resting on hooks above a bed that looked very much like his own. Geoffrey turned to Hermione. "How did we get back here? I didn't see you use the Time Turner?"

"Oh, I didn't! We're not really in your room. This room must have sensed that that was where you needed to be though. That's what this room does. I've found it very useful on several occasions, not the least of which when I went back in time to fetch you." She motioned towards the bed. "Come on, we'd might as well make ourselves comfortable."

Geoffrey hesitated, feeling rather peculiar about the idea of climbing into a bed in front of Hermione. She apparently had no such qualms, however, because she climbed up to sit crosslegged near the foot of the bed. Geoffrey reluctantly joined her, propping the pillows up to lean against them as he faced her.

She must have been right about the room, because somehow sitting on this bed that wasn't really his made him feel a little better anyway. He pushed the awkardness of their relative positions out of his mind and asked her the question that had been lurking in his mind.

"How did I die?"

"You were a hero, Geoffrey. You-Know-Who had sent a group of Death Eaters to attack an orphanage filled with half-blood and muggleborn children. You found out about it, and volunteered to sabotage the operation. You managed to warn the headmistress in time for her to evacuate most of the children, but you were intercepted by Death Eaters and, well, you were outnumbered." She sighed, resting her chin in her hands. "You were hit with the Killing Curse. You know what that means."

The sick feeling returned to Geoffrey's stomach at the thought of the Unforgivable. He'd cast many a curse in his day, but never one of _those_. It was unthinkable. "But what was I doing there in the first place? If I was a teacher, why was I sabotaging Death Eater operations? It doesn't make sense."

"You know Professor Dumbledore. He's managing this war against the Dark Lord from his office. You were one of his many agents in that war. As for why you did it," Hermione shrugged, "only you will be able to answer that."

He was a hero, she'd said. As impressive as that sounded, he was still dead. The life he'd been told he would lead horrified him, so far was it from his hopes and dreams. No. Geoffrey vowed to himself right then that he would find a way to escape his fate. All of it. He would lead the life that he chose, not the one that had been prescribed for him.


	10. Complementary Goals

For the first time in his sixteen years of life, Geoffrey felt he had a purpose. He refused to be a slave to his destiny; he would overcome it, rewriting history if necessary. No more would he aimlessly exist, hoping that someday everything would turn out all right. He would make it happen.

Ever since that afternoon in the trophy room the previous week Geoffrey had thought hard about what he'd discovered, developing a strategy that would allow him to escape his fate. He was spurred on by a few casual words in his Common room that had yielded a wealth of information about his older self; he would not become the man they described.

"I overheard some Slytherins talking about Professor Norman this afternoon," he'd remarked to Ernie and Hannah during a game of Exploding Snap. "They said he's not half as good as their last Potions professor. Has Norman just started here, then?"

Hannah shifted uncomfortably in her seat, frowning slightly. Ernie grimaced and replied hesitantly, "Yes, he's new. He came right around Halloween, after our last professor was killed."

"Killed? How?" Geoffrey pretended to be shocked by this revelation.

"Fighting You-Know-Who." Ernie's voice dropped to a whisper as he said those three words then returned to its normal volume. "It was quite a shock, you see. Most of us believed he'd be more likely to support You-Know-Who than oppose him. But it turns out we were wrong."

They'd thought he was a Death Eater? Geoffrey pretended to be examining his cards, hoping to hide his surprise. After a moment he asked, "Why would you think a Hogwarts teacher would support Vold- You-Know Who? I can't imagine old Dumbledore would hire someone like that."

"Well, he was head of Slytherin, and everyone knows most of them turn bad eventually," explained Hannah as she drew a card. "And he was frightful scary, sneaking around in shadows all the time hoping to catch students breaking rules."

"He was always playing favorites too, giving unfair advantage to his own House any chance he could," Ernie added. "I don't think he ever deducted points from Slytherin, no matter what the circumstances. So I'm not surprised they'd prefer Snape to Norman."

"Sounds like he was a popular fellow," Geoffrey jibed sarcastically. Why should he be surprised to hear of his own bad reputation, Geoffrey didn't know. It merely served to harden his resolve to change things. He joked with his housemates, joining in their derision of the "pathetic old bat" while waiting impatiently for the game to end so he could be alone to think.

And now, he understood what he needed to do. First, he'd deduced why he'd stayed at Hogwarts after graduation instead of going out into the world as he'd planned. Geoffrey believed the answer to this question was fairly straight-forward; he hadn't been able to find other work. Oh, he'd been intelligent enough and performed passably on his OWLs, but he was far from the model student. That would need to change. He would throw himself into his studies, earning as many NEWTs as possible so that he would be qualified for any job he wanted after graduation. Maybe he'd even start his own business after he'd saved enough money, and he'd run it loads better than his father ran his. In any case, knowledge was power, and if he studied hard enough he would have the power to be anything he wanted to be. What exactly that was, he didn't know; but he knew he would not be a teacher.

Unfortunately, Geoffrey's busy schedule left little time for extra study. Quidditch practice filled three evenings per week, and every afternoon was already taken up with his "remedial studies" with Hermione. Additionally, Geoffrey found that he spent a great deal of his free time socializing with his Hufflepuff housemates. The novelty of having friends that actually seemed to enjoy his company was hard for Geoffrey to resist, so he spent more time playing Exploding Snap and listening to gossip in the Common room than studying. But now that he'd set a goal, he would channel his willpower into achieving it. He forced himself to resist the urge to waste time playing by heading straight for the library after supper on his non-Quidditch evenings.

More often than not, Hermione spent her evenings in the library as well. Geoffrey found himself sneaking glances at her from across the room on a fairly regular basis. He didn't think she noticed, as she was always fully engrossed in her books. He admired her dedication to her studies, her ability to stay focused for hours on end. And he noted with amusement that she, too, chewed the end of her quill when deep in thought. He wondered what else they had in common.

Tonight, Geoffrey was trying to concentrate on his arithmancy homework, but his mind kept drifting to the girl he was struggling not to stare at. They'd been going through Professor Snape's – his – old notebooks in search of some clue as to how he'd defeated the Dark Lord so many years in his own past. Geoffrey chuckled as he recalled how easily Hermione had been distracted from their task by the description of some new and interesting potions in his notes.

"Do you enjoy Potions, then?" he'd asked.

"Of course!" Hermione'd nodded enthusiastically. "It's fascinating how some substances that are individually poisonous can combine to form a benign, even beneficial potion. Skele-gro, for example, contains acid from Florimander roots, which if you absorb through your bare skin will turn your bones to fluorite."

"Fluorite? What's that?"

Hermione's eyes practically lit up as she'd broken into an explanation of some muggle sciences called "chemistry" and "mineralogy." Geoffrey had never really cared one way or the other about the muggle world and its theories, but he had to admit that he was intrigued by the way Hermione'd explained the connections between the interaction of potions ingredients and their molecular makeup. They'd discussed the topic until Hermione realized with chagrin that it was time for supper. Laughing, he promised he would try to keep them on track the next day.

Geoffrey squinted to see what Hermione was reading over at her table. He couldn't make out the title but it looked like their arithmancy text. He debated with himself for several minutes as to whether he should invite himself to join her before finally gathering the nerve to approach her.

As he stood and gathered his things, a tall red-headed boy shot past him to throw his arms around Hermione from behind her chair.

"Guess who?" the boy laughed. Geoffrey's eyes narrowed as the boy kissed the top of Hermione's head.

"Hello, Ron, I thought you had Quidditch practice tonight?" Hermione replied, eyes still looking down at her book.

"I was supposed to, yes. But Katie's sick, so it's been cancelled." Ron was rubbing her shoulders now. "I was thinking maybe you could, you know, take a break from studying so we can take advantage of Katie's misfortune. If you know what I mean."

Hermione snorted. "I'm sure Katie appreciates your sympathy."

"Come on, Hermione, be a sport!"

"Oh, Ron, I just can't! I've got too much to – oh, hello, Geoffrey!" Hermione spotted him as she turned to face Ron. "Geoffrey, I don't think you've met Ron yet."

Geoffrey instinctively took a step back. "No, but I don't want to interrupt you."

"Nonsense," replied Ron good-naturedly. "You can help me convince Hermione here that she won't fail all her NEWTs if she takes one little night off from studying."

Hermione sighed, making an exasperated face, but leaned against the other boy's arm nonetheless. "Geoffrey, meet Ron Weasley, my rather unstudious boyfriend. Ron, this is Geoffrey Horton. He's the new –"

"The new student student from far, far away, yes, I know. I was there when he was sorted, remember? And you've mentioned him a time or three, you know. Anyway, nice to meet you, Geoffrey." Ron reached behind him to hold out one hand to shake, his other arm still around Hermione.

Geoffrey wanted to dislike him, this lanky, irresponsible fellow who'd laid prior claim to Hermione. And a not so infinitesimal part of him wanted to pull him away from her, to tear his hands off her. But, there was also something about Ron that was just… likeable, in the same way that many of his new housemates were so easy to like. Besides, Hermione wouldn't like it if he were rude to her boyfriend. Geoffrey felt himself accepting the proffered hand. "Likewise, Ron."

"So, Geoffrey, how have you been liking Hogwarts so far? I hope this one hasn't been working you too hard. She tends to do that – ouch!" Ron grimaced as Hermione mock-punched him in the ribs. "Come on, Hermione, you know you have a little bit of a tendency to obsess about your schoolwork!"

"I don't mind," Geoffrey interrupted. A _little flattery might get him somewhere_. "Hermione's an excellent teacher."

"Really? You mean she doesn't just ramble on and on about what Hogwarts: A History has to say about the prevalence of skort mold in the dungeon walls, or something equally boring?"

"I'm sitting right here, Ron," reminded Hermione. "And would you like me to remind you just how many times my 'obsession' has gotten us out of a scrape? Devil's snare, anyone?"

Geoffrey had no idea what Devil's Snare had to do with anything, but apparently Ron did because he blushed nearly as red as his hair. "Yes, well, are you coming with me or not? I might not have another free night until the weekend if Katie feels better soon. And it's been simply ages since we –"

"Ron, please!" Now Hermione was the one blushing. "Don't you ever think before you speak? As I was trying to say earlier, I can't go with you tonight because I promised Geoffrey I'd help him with his arithmancy homework. Isn't that right, Geoffrey?"

Geoffrey nodded at Hermione's plaintive expression. No, she hadn't promised, but if Hermione was trying to fabricate an excuse not to run off with the obviously hormonally charged Gryffindor, he would gladly assist. "Sorry, Ron. I've just been having so much trouble understanding the application of Wittenbaum's theorem to quantum mechanical predications, and your girlfriend here was kind enough to offer to explain it again. Would you like to join us? It's fascinating stuff."

Ron's eyes had begun to glaze over as Geoffrey rattled off many large and unfamiliar words, but they became nervous and wary at the suggestion that he join them in studying. "Um, no. Thank you for the offer, but arithmancy just isn't my cup of tea. I suppose I'll just go find Harry, see if he wants to play a game of chess or something." With a quick kiss to Hermione's cheek, Ron scampered off.

Once he was out of earshot, Hermione burst out laughing. "Quantum mechanical predications? You just made that up, didn't you? I swear I've never heard of such a thing! And I've only just told you about quantum mechanics this afternoon!"

"Ah, but the desired result was achieved, was it not? I sensed that given Ron's distaste for study, and the fact that he is not taking arithmancy with us, he would likely retreat posthaste from any attempt to include him. I was not wrong in assuming that you preferred he not stay, am I?" Geoffrey tried to sound casual, but inside he was dying to know why Hermione had wanted her self-proclaimed boyfriend to leave.

"Yes, well, it's not so much that I wanted him to leave as it is that I find it so hard to get any quality studying done with him here. He'd be constantly tickling me or playing with my hair or otherwise focusing my attention on him. Much as I adore him, he's got the attention span of a boggart unless the subject is Quidditch, chess, or Draco Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" repeated Geoffrey. "He's a frequent topic of conversation?"

"Unfortunately. Harry and Ron hate Draco, not that he's one of my favorite people either, but I'd just as soon pretend he doesn't exist. But since Draco is constantly trying to get us into trouble, Harry and Ron tend to ramble on for ages about how awful he is. He's always been a prat, of course, but he's been ten times worse since you killed his father. Oh, bollocks!" Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth. "I should not have said that!"

Stunned yet again by this unexpected revelation, Geoffrey sat down in the chair next to Hermione and leaned in close. "Well, now that you did say it, you'd better explain it!"

"I am getting to be worse than Hagrid, I swear," Hermione berated herself, shaking her head. "Oh, bother. If I don't tell you know you'll probably just pry the information out of someone else. I know I would. So I might as well tell you."

She looked around as if to make sure no one was nearby, then leaned closer toward Geoffrey until her lips were an inch from his ear. Geoffrey momentarily forgot all about Malfoy as his body stiffened, responding to her breath against his ear. He imagined her sucking gently on his ear -- but then her words jarred him back into reality. "Draco's father, Lucius, was one of the worst Death Eaters – and once of Voldemort's most trusted servants. He hated muggles and muggleborns, just like Draco does, and so Voldemort put him in charge of the mission that I told you about, the one you thwarted the night you were killed. Apparently, he confronted you after you'd seen the children to safety. You dueled, and you killed him. No one knows the details, though."

"Wait a minute. If I killed Lucius, then who killed me?" Lucius Malfoy had always seemed a cruel git, so Geoffrey was not sorry to hear he'd caused his end. He was more concerned with his own fate.

Hermione shrugged. "We're not really sure. Someone brought your body back to the edge of the Hogwarts' grounds afterwards. We presume it was one of Voldemort's men, perhaps the one who killed you."

She leaned back and looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry I keep mentioning these things. It must be just dreadful to know about your own death. I can't imagine how it must be for you."

"It doesn't matter," shrugged Geoffrey. _It doesn't matter because it isn't ever going to happen_, he thought before changing the subject. "We should get back to work. Now that we've scared Ron away, would you prefer to work alone, or would you like to study together? I was just about to tackle my arithmancy problems anyways."

Hermione frowned. "Well, it's okay as long as we really study. I do have a lot of work to do."

"Of course," he agreed. "As do I. We have the same assignment, you know."

"All right, then," she nodded before turning her attention back to her book and popping the end of her quill between her teeth. A sure sign that the conversation was now over.

At first, Geoffrey could hardly believe his luck. She'd let him stay, but sent Weasley packing! He didn't humor himself that the reason was anything other than what she'd said, that the Gryffindor made a dreadful study partner. But this knowledge was useful. Very useful. Hermione was studious, and she bemoaned that Ron was not. Ergo, if Geoffrey were more studious than Ron… he might be able to impress Hermione with his academic prowess and then… who knows?

Armed with this plan, Geoffrey turned his attention to his work. It was perfect, really. He could study for his NEWTs, working toward his goal of professional independence while simultaneously impressing (and hopefully wooing) Hermione Granger.


	11. Progress

"I think I've found something," Hermione exclaimed as she and Geoffrey were poring over his older self's research notes. Geoffrey closed the book he was reading and peered over her shoulder.

"There are many kinds of blindness," she read aloud, "and nearly as many ways of inducing it. The _Otis Dissolutio_ potion dissolves the optic nerve completely and destroys its endings so that the vision loss is irreparable. A small proportion (15) of victims has achieved a sort of aural sight however through repeated applications of the _Novus Visum _charm. In successful cases these patients develop the ability to recognize living creatures based off of their unique aural signatures."

"Creepy," commented Geoffrey. "But I don't think that's what we're looking for. Surely the purpose of blinding Voldemort would be to prevent him from seeing those around him, so he can be surprised and killed. Giving him the ability to recognize aural signatures would defeat the purpose."

"Only 15 of people were able to develop that skill, actually. But since the success probably relates to extreme sensitivity to magic, Voldemort would likely be in that 15. So you're probably right. Let's see what else this says… The_ Ignotus Stipatores _potion forms an opaque cloud over the retinas of the victim, obscuring sight. That sounds a lot like cataracts," theorized Hermione.

"Cataracts?" he repeated.

"They're a muggle vision disorder, usually afflicting the elderly." She continued reading. "This potion is easily countered by the application of Solidan root extract thrice daily for a fortnight. No, that's too simple."

Geoffrey was already reading ahead down the page. "Ooh, look at this – to truly blind an individual one must cloud both his vision and his sense of perception especially if the victim has any skill in leglimency. Many wizards can establish a sort of connection with those who are of importance to them. A combination of potions, occlumency and charm magic can be used to break the link between the victim and those connected with him."

"I think this is it, Geoffrey! It makes sense. We know Voldemort has established those kinds of links and they've caused us loads of problems already," she explained in a rush.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, first off it has been difficult to completely hide our plans from You-Know-Who. He has spies everywhere and they seem to contact him remarkably quickly. And then, there's Harry," she sighed.

"Harry. Harry Potter?" Geoffrey hadn't been at Hogwarts long before he'd discovered that Hermione's quiet friend Harry was actually Harry Potter, the son of one of his own least favourite people. At first he'd been angry, filled with a desire to hate the boy in his father's stead. A stern look from Hermione had convinced him to hide his antipathy. To his surprise, he found that his malignant feelings faded the more time he spent with the Gryffindor boy. Harry was not nearly so obnoxious or arrogant as his father, and Geoffrey had never seen him pick on anybody. He always met Geoffrey's presence with soft enthusiasm; a friend of Hermione's was a friend of Harry's. So gradually Geoffrey found himself remembering Harry's connection to James less frequently. When he did remember, Geoffrey reminded himself that he himself wasn't much like his own father either. "What does Harry have to do with this?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Perhaps we'd better sit down. I think it's time to explain the rest of the prophecy."

So they retreated to the two nearest desks to talk.

"Remember how I told you that the prophecy says you will help someone else to blind the Dark Lord?"

Geoffrey nodded. "Yes. 'The Boy Who Lived'. I've heard people use that expression around campus but it seemed everyone already knew what it meant so I was afraid to ask."

"Good," Hermione nodded. "Everyone in our own time knows about The Boy Who Lived. He is in about a dozen books and parents tell their children about what happened to him as a bedtime story. It would have looked very suspicious if you'd asked about it, but I'll explain it now. You see, Harry is 'The Boy Who Lived.'"

"I suspected that from the way you segued from Harry to the prophecy. But what does 'The Boy Who Lived' mean? Was he badly injured in the past?"

Hermione took a moment to answer. "Well, when Voldemort was at the height of his power, if he tried to kill a person, that person didn't stand a chance. But when he tried to kill Harry, he couldn't."

Geoffrey laughed. "Little Harry kept the Dark Lord from killing him? He doesn't look strong enough to hold off a hinkypunk."

"Nevertheless, he's a very powerful wizard. And when Voldemort tried to kill him, the spell backfired and nearly killed Voldemort instead. He disappeared for many years, barely alive, but found a way to come back several years ago."

"Wait. Several years? How old was Harry when this happened?" If a child could defeat the most powerful evil wizard to ever live, what could they possibly need Geoffrey for now when that child was nearly grown?

"Um, I don't think I should say exactly, but very young. It was some sort of complicated magic that protected him, but that's not the point," Hermione seemed reluctant to elaborate.

The story sounded ridiculous to Geoffrey. "Why did Voldemort want to kill him in the first place? I mean, wouldn't Voldemort have had more important things to do in his quest to take over the wizarding world than attack small children?"

"There was an earlier prophecy that indicated Harry would be the one to cause his downfall," explained Hermione.

"Hmm, I suppose he would take notice of that. All right, that explains why Harry is involved," acknowledged Geoffrey. "How is this connected to Voldemort's psychic links?"

"I take it you've noticed Harry's scar?" Hermione motioned to her forehead.

Geoffrey nodded. "It's rather hard to miss."

"It's a curse scar, left over from Voldemort's attack. And somehow, Voldemort has maintained a connection to Harry through that scar ever since. Sometimes it's passive, and Harry might inadvertently 'see' what the Dark Lord is doing. But Voldemort also uses the connection to snoop in Harry's mind, and even worse, to put visions there that aren't even real."

"How dreadful!" The thoughts in Geoffrey's mind were bad enough without having some evil wizard planting more in there. "Hasn't anyone taught Harry how to keep him out?"

"Well, there was an attempt," replied Hermione cautiously, "but it was largely unsuccessful."

Geoffrey raised his eyebrows in question.

Hermione continued. "Harry spent several months last year learning occlumency, but it didn't help. Voldemort was still able to plant a vision in Harry's mind that eventually led to s-someone's death."

"Really? Who died?"

"I really can't say more, Geoffrey," replied Hermione, biting her lip.

"Hmph." Geoffrey hated it when information was withheld, even when he logically understood the need for it. "Well then, let's get back to the prophecy. I'm supposed to help Harry blind the Dark Lord. From what we've just read it occurs to me that what we really need to do is break the link between Harry and Voldemort. What doesn't make sense is why it has to be me? Surely I'm not the only person in this time that knows anything about occlumency?"

"Of course not, but the prophecy says – wait, how much _do_ you know about occlumency? It's not exactly covered in the Hogwarts curriculum," Hermione eyed him curiously.

Geoffrey shrugged, not wanting to sound conceited. "I'm no expert, certainly, but I've dabbled in it a bit."

"Dabbled?"

"Let's just say I've had the need to hide my thoughts from certain people at various times." Geoffrey did not want to discuss his father with Hermione. He hoped she'd take the hint.

She didn't. "But how did you learn? It's not like you can learn it from a book. I should know, I've tried!"

"Look, Hermione, I don't really want to get into this. Please, just accept that I had the need to hide my thoughts and so I developed the ability to do it."

"All right, you don't have to tell me why you needed to learn occlumency but please tell me how you accomplished it. It might help us teach Harry, after all." Hermione's eyes pleaded with him.

Geoffrey felt his resolve weakening. He sighed. "I didn't know what it was when I first did it. I was just squeezing my eyes shut as hard as I could, wishing that if I couldn't see out, no one would be able to see in. And I felt a wall go up, that's the only way I can describe it. Over time, the wall got stronger. It wasn't til I came to Hogwarts that I even heard about 'occlumency' per se."

"And now?"

Geoffrey shrugged again. "At school I haven't had any reason to use it. There's no one at Hogwarts trying to batter their way into my mind. So I'm a bit out of practice, but 'm sure I could still do it if I had to."

"This makes a lot of sense," said Hermione, nodding. "Certainly there are people in our time who are accomplished occlumens, but none of them are here at Hogwarts. Maybe Professor Dumbledore would have found it too suspicious to bring in someone from the outside specially to teach Harry, so someone unsuspicious needed to do it. I just hope the attempt to teach him will be more successful this time."

"I don't know why it would be. He might not have the talent for it, if he hasn't developed it on his own out of necessity. Surely he needs it as much as I did, from what you've described." Geoffrey liked the thought that perhaps his talent was special and rare. The idea that Harry, the powerful boy wizard who vanquished Voldemort as a little kid might not be able to do something that was now almost second nature to Geoffrey made him feel a little less insignificant.

Hermione didn't look convinced. "I doubt that is the problem. I suspect it has more to do with _who_ was teaching him than the subject matter. You see, he and Harry didn't get on. So Harry was a bit resistive to his instruction."

"I see." This made sense to Geoffrey, even if he preferred his own explanation. "Yes, it could be problematic trying to teach someone to protect their mind if the student doesn't really want to cooperate. There isn't enough fear there to trigger the instinctive reaction, as if the mind were really being invaded, so the attempt could be counterproductive. So perhaps he would do better with me. Not that I know the first thing about teaching, of course."

"Nonsense. I'm sure you could do it if you set your mind to it." Hermione pooh-poohed this suggestion, and then grinned. "You're forgetting that you were my teacher for over five years, Geoffrey. I know you can teach."

Geoffrey grimaced internally at the reminder of his fate. "Well, I haven't done that yet, so you'll just have to coach me through it. You can teach me how I taught." _Yes, that could be _very_ convenient._

"Certainly." Hermione's expression looked just a little too satisfied, as if she were planning something. "I'm sure I can help you learn to be an _excellent_ teacher."

"Good. Now that that's settled, can we get out of these dungeons for awhile? We can go back to meeting in the Charms classroom while you teach me how to teach." The dungeons were dank and unpleasant, and reminded him too much of the fate he'd vowed to avoid.

"All right," Hermione laughed. "Oh, we should probably send a message to the headmaster to ask for a meeting."

"Why would we want to do that?" The less Geoffrey had to deal with Dumbledore, the better.

"Why? Because he's in charge, that's why! And we have to let him know if we're going to teach Harry occlumency so he can plan, or whatever it is he does."

"I think we should wait to contact him until I'm ready to actually start teaching him. Otherwise he'll put on too much pressure." Geoffrey acknowledged to himself this excuse was rather weak, but he really did not want to talk to the headmaster before he had to.

"Oh, all right," conceded Hermione with a frown. "But we have to start right away then."

"That would be acceptable." _That would be perfect._

_

* * *

_

"Always predicate your criticism with a bit of praise, Geoffrey. That way your student will be receptive to the critique, instead of being defensive. For example, 'Yes, Geoffrey, you've really got the clearing of the mind down well. That's very good. The blocking though still needs a bit of work. Why don't we try that again?" beamed Hermione. "See, didn't that make you _want_ to do better?"

"Always predicate your criticism with a bit of praise, Geoffrey. That way your student will be receptive to the critique, instead of being defensive. For example, 'Yes, Geoffrey, you've really got the clearing of the mind down well. That's very good. The blocking though still needs a bit of work. Why don't we try that again?" beamed Hermione. "See, didn't that make you to do better?" 

Even though it was just part of the demonstration, Geoffrey felt himself melt a little every time Hermione smiled at him. He almost felt like she really was praising him, like she did when he followed her instructions properly. He wasn't sure he would be able to effectively utilize her method of teaching in a real situation because it was not part of his nature to say something nice when it wasn't warranted. He had to admit that it felt good being on the receiving end of such praise though.

Geoffrey knew he was in grave danger of falling hard for Hermione. Logic told him that he would have to go back to his own time eventually, and that forming an emotional attachment here was foolhardy. Regardless, he had never enjoyed anyone's company the way he did hers and since he had to work with her closely anyway, he decided he might as well make the most of it and deal with the emotional consequences later. He wanted her to like him in a way no one else ever had. Even though he'd have to leave, he wanted the memory to cherish forever.

She'd been instructing him for over a week on the fine art of teaching while simultaneously trying to learn as much about occlumency from him as possible. Geoffrey was tempted to pretend he was learning slower than he actually was just to drag out their sessions as long as he could, but he dismissed the idea. Hermione valued intelligence, and thus it would not do to appear a dunderhead.

"Yes, I see what you mean," replied Geoffrey. "How about this, 'Well done, Hermione, you've beaten the NEWT score records in eleven subjects! That's quite an accomplishment! But if you put in just a little bit more effort, I think you can beat a twelfth record!'"

Hermione laughed, giving him a little shove. "You're teasing me!"

"Just a little," acknowledged Geoffrey. "But I really do think you're clever. I wish I was as smart as you are." _Flattery worked before, let's see if it works again._

"But you are, Geoffrey! You're very good at arithmancy, and you know that you're going to grow up to be one of the top Potions masters in Britain. You have to be clever to accomplish that." Hermione looked surprised at the suggestion that Geoffrey was anything other than brilliant.

Geoffrey sighed woefully. "I thought about that after you told me, but I don't understand how that's going to happen. I'm really not all that good at potions. I usually get 'A's in Potions, although I did manage an occasional 'E'." _Reverse those grades and you'd be nearer the truth. But even then, 'E's don't make a Potions master._

"Really? I'm surprised by that. Hmm," Hermione looked like she was thinking. "I could help you with Potions, if you'd like. You understood the concept of chemistry pretty easily, so I'd wager with just a little bit of extra coaching you'd do well in no time."

_I was hoping you'd say that_. "You think so? But no, it would be too much of an imposition." Geoffrey had observed in his years at Hogwarts that the best way to convince a Gryffindor to act is to imply that it would be too much trouble for them to do so. They had an inherent tendency to stick their neck out which would suit him very well in this case.

"No, it's not an imposition at all! In fact, it may be absolutely necessary," argued Hermione.

"What do you mean?" Geoffrey was puzzled.

Hermione grinned. "Well, how are you going to grow up to be a brilliant Potions master if you barely scrape by in Potions class? Perhaps the reason you become a Potions master in the first place is that you got some extra tutoring while in the future and realised you had a knack for the subject after all?"

Geoffrey thought about that for a moment. "That would be extremely ironic."

"Yes, the paradoxes of time-turning are enough to drive anyone crazy," laughed Hermione. "Do you want to start tonight?"

If Geoffrey recalled correctly, and he was pretty certain that he did, Hermione was supposed to watch Ron's Quidditch practice tonight. After a half-second's consideration he decided not to remind her of this fact. "If you're certain it wouldn't be too much trouble, I would like that."

"Splendid. I'll see you in the library after supper." Hermione picked up her knapsack and headed for the door. She turned back right before opening it. "Oh, by the way, I sent a message to the headmaster on my transfiguration homework yesterday. He'll be joining us at four o'clock tomorrow."

_I guess the party's over_, thought Geoffrey as he gathered his own belongings and headed back to his room. Lord, how he hated that old man.

A/N: I'm bound and determined to finish this well before HBP comes out, so updates should be coming more frequently from now on. Feel free to nag if they don't.


	12. Identity

"So, children, you have something to report?" prompted Dumbledore. He, Hermione, and Geoffrey were sitting around a table in the Charms classroom to discuss their findings.

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir, we think we've solved a piece of the puzzle. We found a treatise on blindness that Professor Snape wrote that mentions a method we think we can use to break the connection between Harry and Voldemort."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore motioned for Hermione to elaborate, so she went on to describe their hypothesis in detail. Geoffrey sat silently, listening to her explanation. It needed no correction from him.

"So we think that Geoffrey was brought here to help teach Harry occlumency and to prepare the potion Professor Snape spoke of. It all makes sense, don't you see?" finished Hermione.

"An interesting theory," nodded Dumbledore. "I am unclear though as to how you intend to deliver this potion to Voldemort?"

Hermione blushed. "We haven't gotten that far yet, sir. But I'm certain we will think of something. In the meantime we can move forward with Harry's occlumency lessons. I'm sure Geoffrey can teach him in no time since Harry won't resist him quite so much as he did before."

The Headmaster pursed his lips. "I think you may have forgotten one small detail, Miss Granger. Severus,"

Geoffrey startled, surprised at being addressed at all and doubly so for being addressed by his real name. No one had called him Severus for over a month.

"Am I correct in assuming that your experience with occlumency does not extend into leglimency?" Geoffrey felt as if the Headmaster's eyes were boring into him as Dumbledore waited for his answer.

"No. I mean, yes. I have never used leglimency." Geoffrey laughed bitterly. "I generally make it a habit to avoid raping other people's minds."

Dumbledore looked shrewdly at him for a moment then continued, "I would never think you had, Severus. However, I must admit that I'm surprised it has not yet occurred to either of you that in order to effectively teach occlumency, one requires a leglimens to provide the proper motivation for defense?"

Hermione slapped her forehead. "Good lord. You're right! I can't believe we didn't think of that. But you can help us with that, Professor, can't you?"

"I'm afraid not, Miss Granger." Dumbledore shook his head regretfully. "I asked myself many a time after ... after the first attempt to teach Harry was unsuccessful whether I should have done it myself. I told Harry at the time that I believed it to have been a mistake, but after further consideration I still do not believe that opening Harry's mind to Voldemort in my presence would be a wise idea."

"Well, if you can't help us, Professor, who can? Surely someone else in the Order is skilled with leglimency and would be willing to help us?" asked Hermione.

The Headmaster nodded. "I can think of one other candidate for the role. However, it would be too suspicious for him to come here during the school year. We must wait until the summer for Severus to begin his training."

"Me?" replied Geoffrey in surprise. "Why not Harry? If we've got a leglimens, why can't he just teach Harry occlumency and leave me out of it?"

"I am sure that he could. However, if Voldemort were to see this person interacting with Harry on a regular basis it would not take long before Voldemort realized what we were trying to accomplish. There is nothing unusual, however, in Harry spending time with a fellow student. You will learn leglimency this summer and then use it to train Harry in occlumency in the fall."

Geoffrey couldn't shake the feeling that this was a weak excuse, that Dumbledore must have some other motive in pursuing this seemingly indirect course toward the goal. He also couldn't help but feel a bit of nausea at the idea of invading someone else's mind in the way his had been invaded so many times before. "I really don't like this idea."

"Nevertheless, it is what you must do," insisted the Headmaster. "We must all deal with some measure of unpleasantness to fight this war."

_I don't see_ you _dealing with any_, grumbled Geoffrey under his breath, giving Dumbledore a sullen look.

"But Professor Dumbledore," interjected Hermione. "Why can't _you_ teach Geoffrey? After all, he doesn't have a mind link with the Dark Lord the way Harry does, so there should be no danger there."

"Ah. An excellent question, Miss Granger. That would seem logical. However, I fear that any attempt for me to train Severus in leglimency would end much like Harry's recent endeavor. I do not feel I could teach him effectively."

Geoffrey had to admit that he hardly held the Headmaster in a favorable light, but preferred to believe that Dumbledore merely wanted to hand the responsibility and work off to someone else. _Dumbledore wouldn't want to waste his precious time on the likes of me._

"I see your point," Hermione acknowledged with a sidewise glance at Geoffrey. "Come on, Geoffrey. It will be all right."

Geoffrey turned his gaze to her. She was looking at him compassionately, as if she really did care that he was not keen on the plan at all. Her look calmed his frantic nerves. He didn't want Hermione to think he was weak, so he tried to appear nonchalant. "All right. I'll do it. It's not like I'll have anything better to this summer, will I?"

"Oh, staying at Hogwarts for the summer would be great," gushed Hermione. "Just think of all the time you'll be able to spend in the library without being bothered!"

Geoffrey was about to respond when Dumbledore interrupted, "Severus will not be staying at Hogwarts over the summer."

"He won't?" asked Hermione.

"I won't?" repeated Geoffrey, confused. "Just where am I supposed to go then?"

"Why, you'll go home, just like the rest of the students, of course," Dumbledore replied as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Home? But I thought my absence from my own time was already covered? I can't disappear twice!"

The Headmaster chuckled. "You misunderstand me, Severus. You will go home, to stay with your mother in Snape Village, but in the current time, not your own."

"Wait, that doesn't make sense. If I go home my father will surely let his friends know and then Voldemort will be on to us." argued Geoffrey.

"Geoffrey," Hermione said softly. "You don't have to worry about that. Your mother lives alone now. Even that dreadful bird is gone."

"Alone? You mean... my father is dead," Geoffrey concluded. "Of course. Finally, some _good_ news about my future. What did the old bastard in at the end, do you know?"

The Headmaster looked down at Geoffrey with pity he didn't want. "I do not know how your father died, Severus. You can ask your mother when you see her, if you think it appropriate to trouble her about the matter. However it would be preferable for you to let the matter lie, lest any future accidental revelation on your part prevent it from occurring."

That was a sobering thought. He wouldn't want to interfere with his dear father's demise in any way. "But won't it look strange for me, even in disguise, to suddenly appear at my mothers' home?"

"No more suspicious than it was for you to appear at Hogwarts mid-year. Olivia can tell her neighbors that she has hired a young assistant to help her in the shop; her health, after all, is not what it once was. And since Severus Snape is known to be both adult and deceased, it is highly unlikely for anyone to suspect that you are he," explained Dumbledore. "Besides, Miss Granger and I promised your mother that you would visit her while you were here. I would hate for her to be disappointed."

Geoffrey nodded. Home would be bearable with his father dead. And he would have the opportunity to talk to her about what she'd written in her letter. That required some additional explanation. "Fine. Are we done here?"

"Almost," replied the Headmaster. "Miss Granger, you are free to go. I would like to speak with Severus for a few moments privately."

Geoffrey wondered why Dumbledore would possibly want to speak to him alone, and why he kept feeling a twinge of discomfort at being addressed by his given name. Hermione had already collected her things when he thought to call after her. "I'll see you tonight for Potions?"

"Yes, I'll see you there," she replied before making her exit.

Geoffrey turned back to the Headmaster with eyebrows raised. "Well? What do you want?"

"You misunderstand me, Severus. I want nothing. However, I sense there is a question you would like to ask _me_." The old man tapped his fingers together and waited patiently for a response.

_How does he do that?_ Geoffrey wondered. "All right, I'll bite. Why do you keep insist on calling me Sev- my old name? The whole point of all this," he motioned to his face, "is that no one can know who I really am! But if you keep on calling out the other name, someone may overhear and then all your plans will be for nothing."

"Ah," nodded Dumbledore. "You are quite correct. It is essential to the plan that your true identity remain hidden. However, I believe that it is also very important for you to remember who you really are."

"What are you talking about? Of course I remember who I am, I'm not a pillock!" Geoffrey was annoyed by the implication.

"I did not mean that you do not literally remember who you are, of course. Rather, that when one assumes a false identity, especially an appealing one, one must resist the temptation to internalize that identity at the expense of one's own true self. It would not do to become too attached to Geoffrey Horton. For when the task is done, you must once again become Severus Snape." Again the piercing gaze.

_Like hell I will!_ Geoffrey bit back his retort. No good could come of betraying his plan to change his destiny to the old coot. "I am fully aware that I am only here to do a job. This charade will end the moment Voldemort is dead." What charade Geoffrey was referring to, Dumbledore did not need to know.

The Headmaster stared him down a few seconds more, then replied. "Very well. I trust we understand each other. You may go, Severus."

* * *

"What did you and Professor Dumbledore talk about?" asked Hermione when Geoffrey met her in the ever-changing room (Hermione'd called it the Room of Requirement) that evening. "I didn't hear any shouting."

"Very funny. No, he just wanted to remind me of my 'place' again and how he's the one in charge and all." Geoffrey didn't want to elaborate about the identity issue. He dropped his books to the floor with a thump. "I hate that old man. We're all just toy soldiers in his little war, he doesn't care how we feel about being used."

Hermione looked concernedly back at him. "I didn't realize you still felt that way. It really isn't just the Headmaster's war, you know. It's all of ours. If Voldemort wins he'll kill all the half-bloods and muggleborns and rule everyone who's left with an iron fist."

"Yes, but how does that concern me? I'm dead, remember? Whether Dumbledore wins or Voldemort wins I have to go back to my own time and mark time until I die. It doesn't make any difference to me who wins." Geoffrey realized as soon as the words were out that they were probably the wrong thing to say to the girl he was trying to woo. He'd been so bothered by how Dumbledore was pushing him around when Geoffrey was doing them all a favor that he didn't consider how Hermione might take his words. He kicked himself inwardly for his stupidity.

"So why are you here, then?" she retorted angrily. "If you don't care about all the people who are going to die if Voldemort wins, then why did you even bother coming here in the first place?"

_For revenge_. Geoffrey considered how he should answer to salvage the situation. The truth, but not the whole truth. "For my mother. Because she asked me to. Look, Hermione, I didn't ask to be 'the Man Who Knew He Would Not". I didn't ask to be part of any of this. But I came anyway, and I'm doing what you asked me to do. Why the hell does it matter why I'm doing it?"

"You sound like Harry. He didn't ask to be The Boy Who Lived either. Voldemort came after him. He didn't have a choice like you did." Hermione looked like she might cry. "I suppose it doesn't matter why you're doing it. I guess I just want to believe that you're the kind of person who would care if Voldemort slaughtered me and my family and all the others like me."

"You? Why would Voldemort kill you?"

"I'm a _mudblood_. Didn't you know?" Hermione laughed through tears of anger. Geoffrey cringed at Hermione referring to herself with the epithet. "Having muggle parents and being one of Harry Potter's best mates puts me near the top of Voldemort's 'To Kill' list, don't you think?"

"I didn't know. I hadn't even thought about it." This was totally true. It had never occurred to Geoffrey to consider her parentage at all.

"Well, you should think about it. A lot of the people you've met here, people who think of you as a friend, a lot of them are people Voldemort would have killed. Your roommate, Justin? Muggleborn. You know Seamus and Dean, in Gryffindor? Half-blood and muggleborn. Eloise Midgen? Half-blood. Anthony Goldstein? Muggleborn. Do I need to go on?"

"No, stop!" Geoffrey didn't want to think about any of this. Without even realizing he was doing it, Geoffrey took Hermione's hand. "You're right. I hadn't thought about it that way. Maybe I should have, I'm sorry. But I didn't know any of them back then. I only knew you. And I promise you, Hermione, Voldemort won't win. I won't let him win." _I won't let him hurt you_. Geoffrey wanted to hold her, wanted to reassure her. He wanted to kiss her. But she wasn't his. Not yet, anyway.

"You'd better not, then you would have come here for nothing." retorted Hermione with a teary smile. She gave his hand a squeeze before pulling it back to wipe her eyes. "We should get to work. I have some Ancient Runes homework to do after this."

_No, not for nothing_, thought Geoffrey as he sat beside her at the table the Room of Requirement provided for their use.

* * *

The next few months proceeded as normally as they could for one displaced from his own time. Geoffrey studied diligently both alone and with Hermione, as eager to please her as he was to rise to the top of his class. He found that his social time became divided between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. The other members of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team had included him fully in their clique. Geoffrey suspected that their victory over Slytherin had something to do with their warmth, since it turned out that Geoffrey really did play better than the majority of their team. That Malfoy had been suffering from a head cold at the time of the match probably had more of an effect on that game's outcome, but Geoffrey was happy with the end result nonetheless.

Additionally, Hermione's friends also accepted him into their own group as a sort of adjunct member. Since being friendly with the Gryffindor clan meant more time spent with Hermione, Geoffrey encouraged the relationships, occasionally playing Wizard Chess with Ron broom racing with Harry down at the Quidditch pitch, all the while being careful not to let on that he fancied Ron's girl.

All and all, it was the happiest time of his life.

A/N: Two chapters in a little over a week. Almost a record! I will keep them coming, I promise. Also, the pace of the action will be picking up shortly; unfortunately there was a lot of emotional set up that needed to be done first.


	13. Homecoming

The final Quidditch game of the season, Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw, came shortly before the end of term. Gryffindor was favored to win, since they'd won both their matches and Ravenclaw had beaten only Hufflepuff. Geoffrey sat in the stands between Hermione and a quiet Gryffindor boy named Neville Longbottom, swallowing his natural distaste for Gryffindor to cheer along with them.

It was a close match. Both Ron and the Ravenclaw keeper, Terry Boot, managed to fend off the majority of the opposing teams goal attempts, so the score was a nearly even 40 to 30 in favor of Ravenclaw when Cho Chang dove for the snitch. Cho's Comet 260 was no match for Harry's Firebolt, however, so he quickly overtook her and soon the match and the Quidditch Cup was Gryffindor's.

The House Cup also went to Gryffindor, and so the end-of-year party became a two-fold Gryffindor celebration. Geoffrey found the music a little jarring, as the popular music of his future differed greatly from that in his own time, but was enjoying the party immensely. After the meal, which Geoffrey ate with his own House, Ron and Harry waved for him to come join their group. The boys' conversation was swamped with Quidditch talk, while most of the girls were discussing music and fashion. Hermione, Geoffrey noted, seemed a bit bored and not particularly interested in either conversation.

After about a half hour, Geoffrey stood. "I'm going to get some more punch, does anyone want anything?"

About six people answered in the affirmative, and then Hermione stood also. "I'll help you fetch it." The two of them walked across to where the refreshments were served.

"So, how do you think you did on your arithmancy final? I wasn't sure about question four but other than that I think I did well." Geoffrey broke the silence as he began pouring glasses of punch.

Hermione's eyes lit up as she nodded. "Question four _was _tough. If I hadn't decided at the last minute to get one more Arithmancy text from the library I would have missed it. The answer was clearly delineated in Merriweather's Advanced Arithmantic Theory."

"I thought it might have something to do with limits," began Geoffrey as he handed her two glasses of punch to hold, but then Hermione interrupted.

"Yes, exactly! Merriweather hypothesized that if you calculated the limit of each factor in the equation divided by the next, you would eventually result in a series of numbers, which added together, could be used for a Briar-Thorn analysis."

Geoffrey marveled at just how fast Hermione could talk when she really liked the subject matter. The two of them just stood there, by the refreshments table, rehashing their exam experience, for more than a few minutes. Periodically Geoffrey noticed that Harry would look over towards them as if wondering what was taking them so long.

Geoffrey was reluctant to curtail their conversation, but eventually decided he must. They did, after all, have drinks to deliver.

"Hermione, we should probably take these back to the table. Before the natives start getting restless or something."

Hermione's face flushed and she looked down at the glasses she'd been holding all this time. Geoffrey thought he detected a flicker of disappointment when she replied, "Yes. I suppose you're right."

They loaded up two trays with the glasses and carried them carefully back to the table.

"We thought we were going to have to send a search party after you," joked Ron as Hermione handed him his punch.

"Sorry, we were just talking about our exams and got a little carried away," Hermione apologized as she gave Lavender the other glass and sat down again.

Ron grimaced. "In that case, you can stay away as long as you like! Sorry, love, but it is rather tiresome to relive each and every question on our exams."

"Well, _Geoffrey _doesn't seem to mind," snapped Hermione.

Geoffrey held his breath. If he were Ron, he'd be royally annoyed at having his girlfriend compare him to another boy.

But Ron was apparently made of sterner stuff. "Well, that's because Geoffrey's nearly as big a swot as you are. No offense, Geoffrey."

"None taken." Geoffrey smiled serenely, waiting for Hermione's reaction. Normally, he'd take offense at being so addressed, but he was willing to overlook his own pride for the sake of the greater good.

"A swot? That's how you think of me? Well, I'm sorry to bother you with my annoying swotty presence then." Hermione kicked her chair back from the table and stormed off. After a moment, and at Harry's urging, Ron took off after her.

Geoffrey noticed Harry looking oddly at him. He commented nonchalantly, "He probably shouldn't have said that."

"No, but she'll forgive him. She always does," Harry said pointedly.

"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about," remarked Geoffrey. "True love will always prevail, of course." That Geoffrey was certain Hermione did not truly love Ron, he chose not to say.

"Yes, it does," insisted Harry. Then Seamus Finnegan suggested a game of exploding snap, and the conversation turned to less touchy subjects.

* * *

The journey to King's Cross on the Hogwarts Express was largely uneventful. Geoffrey had been invited to sit with Justin, Ernie, and Hannah, and thus had not been able to determine whether Hermione was still upset with Ron over his comments the previous evening. He fervently hoped he'd have a chance to say his goodbyes before her parents and whoever Dumbledore had tasked to masquerade as his mother arrived. Even more so, he hoped he would be able to see her alone.

When the train arrived, Geoffrey made his goodbyes with his housemates as quickly as possible then hurried out to see if he could find Hermione. He soon spotted her amongst a gaggle of red-heads whom he assumed were Weasleys. Geoffrey watched as Ron pulled Hermione into an embrace and gave her a solid snog right in front of everyone. He grinned to himself as Hermione pulled back, chiding him for the public display. Then, the Weasleys were off and Hermione began looking around, most likely to locate her own parents.

Geoffrey started to move toward her when her eyes met his. She smiled and began heading toward him as well. They stood awkwardly silent for a few moments when they reached each other.

"No sign of your parents?" asked Geoffrey. Despite his concern that he find her, he'd forgotten to plan what he would say once he did.

"Not yet. They're probably just caught in traffic. They can't take the floo, you see, and it's a long drive from Swindon." Hermione stared up at him. There was a pregnant pause. "And you?"

Geoffrey shrugged. "Dumbledore said to just wait here until I'm collected, that I would know it when it happened. So we might as well keep each other company until they get here."

"All right."

Hermione was rarely this silent unless she was studying. Geoffrey found it a bit disconcerting. So he asked what was on his mind. "Everything all right with Ron now?"

"What? Oh, yes," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I think he doesn't realize what he says, but he means well. But it's all straightened out now."

"Good." _Damn._

"Geoffrey Alexander Horton! I swear, you've grown two inches since I last saw you!" A middle-aged woman with curly black hair wearing a set of worn purple robes was racing toward them, nearly tripping over the hems as she ran across the platform. "Come give your old mum a hug!"

Geoffrey found himself swept up into the woman's enthusiastic embrace. He didn't have to feign discomfort with her exuberance as he pulled back after a moment. "Mum, please! You're embarrassing me."

"Nonsense, nothing embarrassing about showing proper love and respect to one's parents. Oh, I'm so glad to see you again, dear. And who is this lovely young girl, Geoffrey? I'm sure you didn't mention her in your letters?" Unless Geoffrey was mistaken, his 'Mum' winked at Hermione.

"Um, Mum, this is Hermione Granger and Hermione, this is my mother." Geoffrey began the introductions but the other woman broke in, pumping Hermione's hand with vigor.

"Margery Horton, at your service. I'm glad to see my Geoffrey's made such nice friends at Hogwarts." The woman winked again.

"Tonks?" whispered Hermione.

"Wotcher, Hermione," his 'Mum' whispered back before reverting to her original volume. "So pleased to make yer acquaintance. Geoffrey, you should invite this nice young lady to come visit us this summer!"

Geoffrey glanced at Hermione, who gave him a tiny nod of assurance. Apparently his 'mum' was legitimate.

"Yes, yes I should," replied Geoffrey. He turned to Hermione. "Write me?"

"Of course," she promised with a smile. Then her expression changed, becoming more serious. "Good luck with everything."

"Thanks." They stood staring at each other for a few moments. Geoffrey wondered if he should hug her. He didn't dare, much as he wanted to.

Just as he was about to turn away, Hermione stretched up on tiptoes to put her arms around his neck and plant a kiss on his cheek. "See you in September."

"Bye." That was all Geoffrey could manage through his elation. He watched as Hermione headed away and began moving quickly to a muggle couple that was waving to get her attention.

He turned back to his 'Mum', who grinned slyly at him and then turned toward the barrier that formed the gateway out of Platform 9 and ¾. "Come along now, dear. We'd best be getting home, it's nearly time for supper."

Geoffrey followed the older woman as they exited the train station and descended the long moving stairway to the Underground. His 'mum' was talking a mile a minute, regaling him with what must be totally fictional tales of the goings-on at the Horton residence in his absence. His 'mum' had found a nice flat, not fancy, mind ye, but just large enough and at the right price. She'd gotten halfway through the story of her next door neighbor and her rather nosy kneazle when they exited at Finchley Road. "This way, dear, to the floo."

_Does she ever shut up_, wondered Geoffrey as they bustled down the main street and then down a narrow sidestreet. After several more turns they ended up in a row of houses. His 'mum' went to one of the doors and unlocked it with a muggle key. Once they were both inside, she stopped speaking mid-narrative.

"All right then. I'm sure now that we haven't been followed. Sorry about the gab, I just remember how my own mum would go on and on when she used to collect me from the Hogwarts Express and so I decided to play the mum that way. I usually don't talk nearly that much but I'm doing it again right now, aren't I."

As she was speaking, the woman's appearance began to change. The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth smoothed and disappeared. Her skin lightened, her nose shrank to a pert button. And her hair became shorter. And straighter. And pink?

"Auror Tonks, at your service! Well, at Professor Dumbledore's service anyway. You must be awfully important for him to insist on such subterfuge in transporting you from school. Good thing that no one was scheduled to use this floo today, isn't it."

"How the hell did you do that? You can't just turn off the effects of polyjuice at will. Or at least, I didn't think you could?" Geoffrey was fascinated by the implications of what he'd seen.

Tonks laughed, shaking her head. "No, it's not polyjuice. It's just me. I'm a metamorphagus. I can --"

"You can change your appearance at will. Of course. I should have guessed." _Next question._ "Where are we? I thought I was supposed to go to my – to Snape Village."

"Oh, yes, that's where we're going. Professor Dumbledore thought it would be best though if no one knew that was where you were headed. He didn't tell me anything more, just that it was 'very important.'" She made little quotation marks with her fingers as she imitated his voice. "You know Professor Dumbledore, he likes to be secretive and mysteeeerious."

Geoffrey decided he liked Tonks. Anyone who could poke fun at Dumbledore was all right in his book.

"So anyway this here's a Ministry floo. We Aurors have them scattered all about the city, in places where it might not be convenient to apparate. No one was scheduled to use this one today, so I thought I'd take advantage of that." Geoffrey noticed that sure enough, there was a large fireplace in the room. "Speaking of floo, we should be going. Are you ready?"

"Sure." It wasn't as if he had anything else to do.

"Alrighty then," Tonks seamlessly shifted back into her 'mum' appearance and grabbed a handful of powder from a cloth bag on the mantle. She tossed it in the fireplace before stepping in. "Whistling Snitch."

Tonks was waiting for him at the other side when he arrived a few moments later. They exited the pub under a couple curious stares. Neither spoke until they were outside again.

"Excellent. Now let's deliver you to your new employer. I've got the directions right here," she mumbled, digging in her pockets.

_Employer?_ Oh, yes, he'd almost forgotten he would ostensibly be 'working for' his mother for the summer. "That's all right, I know the way. I can find it from here."

"Oh no you don't! Professor Dumbledore said I was to deliver you to the door, and so there's no reason I shouldn't do that." She pulled out a tiny folded scrap of parchment. "This way!"

Geoffrey rolled his eyes in amusement as the auror led him to his own house. It looked much the same as always, except a lot more run down. The sign on the shop downstairs read "Closed" so Geoffrey suggested they go up the back way to see if anyone was at home.

As they climbed the familiar stone stairs, Geoffrey felt his heart pounding as the enormity of what he was about to do sunk in. He was about to see his mother – a mother twenty years older than she was when he'd seen her a month ago. It was a hard concept to grasp, even given the bizarreness of his  
current situation.

Tonks knocked firmly on the door, and they waited. It was nearly a full minute before the door opened and there she was. _She looks like she's aged fifty years_, thought Geoffrey, _not twenty_. He was about to greet her in his normal way, but then realized that Tonks probably didn't know this was his actually his mother. Luckily, his mother saved him by speaking first.

She had apparently been well rehearsed. "Ah, Geoffrey, Mrs. Horton. Welcome, please do come in."

"Thank you very much for accompanying Geoffrey here, Mrs. Horton. I'm afraid I'm not up to flooing much any more. Can I offer you a cup of tea before you go?"

"Why thank you, tea would be lovely." Geoffrey and Tonks sat down on the sofa while his Mum went to fetch tea. "I'll just stay awhile, Geoffrey, in case someone is watching. Not that I think anyone is, of course."

His mother returned with the tea, and the three of them made small talk for what seemed like a very long and strained half hour. Geoffrey kept noticing his mother staring longingly at him, as if it were physically hurting her not to acknowledge him as her son.

"Well, I think the coast is probably clear now. I'd better be on my way." Tonks turned toward the door then stopped, pulling a scroll out of her pocket. "Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you. From Professor Dumbledore."

Geoffrey accepted the scroll. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. You have a lovely summer, and I'll be here to collect you to take you back to Kings Cross on September first at half past nine." She shook Geoffrey's hand enthusiastically and then departed, leaving Geoffrey and his mother alone.

They stood, looking at each other a moment, before she reached out to cup his face. "They told me you'd look different. But your eyes are just the same. Your beautiful, black eyes. When you died I thought I'd never see them again, but here you are. Oh, Severus, I've missed you so much."

And then she wrapped her arms around him and burst into tears. Geoffrey patted her on the back, both moved and embarrassed at the same time. Even though he loved his mum, he'd always been somewhat uncomfortable with her occasional excessive displays of affection. But he figured that coming back from the dead probably warranted some measure of weepiness, so he accepted her embrace. "Well, I'm here now. I'll be here all summer."

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry for being in such a state. It's just, well, I'm so happy to see you again. Oh, but you must be starving! We should eat, I've got a chicken in the oven."

It was just like his mother to use food to diffuse a tense situation, Geoffrey realized with a grin. "That sounds great, Mum."

During the meal his mum regaled him with questions about his time in Hogwarts present and whether they'd made any progress with the prophecy. He told her about playing on the Quidditch team, and about their theory on how to break Voldemort's connection with Harry. When he came to the part about teaching Harry occlumency though he saw his mum had started to tear up again and his words tapered off.

"I wish I could have protected you from him, Severus. A day doesn't go by that I don't regret what he did to you," she sniffled.

"It's not your fault," Geoffrey insisted, uncomfortable with her guilt. "You couldn't have stopped him. Besides, he did worse to you!"

His mum looked back at him with tortured eyes. "But I was an adult. I married him. I made a choice. But you, you didn't choose to be born. No child should ever be made to suffer by their parents."

"Look, it's not your fault," he repeated angrily. "What's done is done. He can't hurt you any more and if I have anything to say about it he won't hurt me anymore either. He's dead now, right?"

"Yes. He's dead now," she whispered.

"How did the bastard die, anyway? I hope the fucker suffered."

"Severus! Language! He…" she paused, looking pained. "He fell down the stairs. Broke his neck."

"What? How does a wizard break his neck falling down the stairs?" Everyone knew that wizards just didn't die that way, their magic protects them from such mundane injuries.

"He… he wasn't himself. I'm sorry, Severus, but I just can't say any more. I'm not supposed to tell you about your future and frankly I don't want to discuss him anymore. The less said about him the better." The meal was concluded in silence.

After his mother had gone to bed, Geoffrey unrolled the parchment from the Headmaster.

**"Severus, **

Your training will begin Tuesday at Eight o'Clock P.M.

Floo to Hogwarts as you did before.

Your instructor will meet you in the Defense Against the  
Dark Arts classroom.

Do not be late.

A. P. W. B. Dumbledore"


	14. Summertime

**Note: interface doesn't allow the strikeout tag - so I had to use (parenthesis) to indicate where Hermione or Geoffrey had scratched out what they'd written. Sorry!  
**

**Dear Hermione,**

**I hope you are enjoying your summer. Mine has been rather quiet for the most part. I help Mum out in the shop during the day and in the evenings I floo out to Hogwarts for my "lessons." You wouldn't believe the crackpot that old Dumbledore found to instruct me! He's got a peg leg and a creepy glass eye and looks like a dragon took a chunk out of his face. Name of Moody, which I find eminently suitable. The bloke is a veritable bucket of ice water. He doesn't seem too fond of me, but then again he doesn't seem too fond of Dumbledore either so I don't take much notice.**

**I'll say this for him though, he knows his stuff. I've learned more in the last two weeks than I managed to figure out for myself in two years. Moody's an auror though, so he must have a great deal of practice.**

**But enough about that. Tell me what you've been doing, and if you finished that book on binding charms yet. I'm sure you have. I wish I could read as fast as you.**

**(I miss you.) I was thinking about how my 'mum' suggested I invite you to stay with 'us' this summer. You could come, if you wanted to. (I want to see you again.) And then we could study together. I could sleep on the sofa and you could use my room. (I can just imagine how you'd look asleep in my bed. ) If you wanted to come, I mean.**

**(Love,)  
(From,)**

**Yours,**

**Geoffrey**

_Dear Geoffrey,_

_How lovely to hear from you! I'm glad your lessons are going well. I am actually a little acquainted with your teacher and agree that he is rather unpleasant, but is the best at what he does. Has he said anything odd to you, perhaps, something that seemed strange or not quite right? If he has, let me know. I have a theory, but I don't want to worry you with the details until I'm sure._

_Things here are fine. Mum and Dad work all day so I have plenty of time to read. I have finished the charms book, of course, and have some ideas I want to test out. But they will have to wait until the start of term; that prohibition against underage magic is really inconvenient at times like this! _

_(&&&&&&&& ) I'd like to visit. I could come any time before August 15 as I'm to go to the Weasleys' after that until school starts. I could only stay a few days though, my parents don't want me to be gone too long since they rarely see me as it is. Does July 20-23 work for you?_

_(&&&&)_

_Write back soon,_

_Hermione_

Geoffrey tried to read the words that had Hermione had scribbled out, but she'd done a very thorough job.

**Dear Hermione,**

**I'm not sure what you mean by "odd". Half of the words coming out of Moody's mouth are odd. Constant vigilance and tripe like that. I suppose the most peculiar thing he says are these comments he makes on occasion about how he must be crazy for agreeing to instruct me, that he fears bad things will come of it. But really I hadn't paid him much mind until you asked about it, because most of what he says reeks of gloom and doom.**

**He does say I'm a natural, though. I managed to batter my way into his head this afternoon for the first time. He has some truly frightening memories. I suppose showing me was his revenge for my getting in there at all.**

**July 20 is fine. Mum is already twittering around getting the flat ready for company. I don't think she's ever really had a houseguest before so she's a bit overly excited about it. So am I. Do you want us to come collect you, or will you find your way here on your own? I know you know the way. **

**(I can't wait to see you.)**

**See you soon,**

**Geoffrey**

_Dear Geoffrey,_

_Be careful what you say to Professor Moody. I don't doubt his intentions but he is extremely suspicious by nature. If anyone could figure out (&&&& &&&&&&&&) the secret, he could._

_I hope your mum isn't going to very much trouble on my behalf! Please reassure her that she doesn't need to make any special accommodations for me. After the Burrow, her flat is already quite immaculate!_

_That reminds me, I do want to bring her a small gift to thank her for her hospitality. Does she like chocolate?_

_Not much else to report from here. I've finished all of the pre-term assignments and so I've been entertaining myself with some pleasure reading and swimming lessons, of all things. You'd think I'd have learned to swim as a child, but I never did. Luckily, I float naturally, so I'm in no danger of drowning, but swimming with proper form is much harder than it looks. I do enjoy getting out though, and visiting with the other students. After being at school all term surrounded by people it feels odd to sit at home alone all day._

_Anyway, I'm looking forward to my visit. I will make my own way, there's no need to go to any trouble._

_Love, _

_Hermione_

The night before Hermione's visit, Geoffrey couldn't sleep a wink. He'd spent the last month thinking of her almost every free moment, wondering what she was doing right then and who she might be with. Anyone who might be spending time with her was worthy of jealousy. But tomorrow, she would be here. Only for four days, but she would be here and Geoffrey would make the most of her visit.

He'd done most of his own homework already, because there was little else to do in the evenings after his mum had gone to bed. He hadn't done all of it though, because he wanted to save something for Hermione to help him with. He loved the way she leaned toward him when they were both looking over his work.

He'd told Moody he'd be taking a break from lessons for a few days. The old man had been annoyed, mumbling about wasting valuable time, but had quickly quieted down when Geoffrey pointed out that he could take it out on him when he returned on the 24th. But Geoffrey refused to waste any of his valuable time with Hermione cooped up in a classroom with the grizzly auror.

Morning eventually came, and Geoffrey helped his mum prepare breakfast to pass the time. She seemed surprised and pleased by his assistance, so Geoffrey made a mental note to help her more often while he was there.

Her punctuality was one of the things he loved about her, realized Geoffrey as the knock came thirty seconds before nine o'clock. She never kept him waiting.

"Hello," he greeted nonchalantly as he opened the door, taking her travel bag from her to keep from throwing his arms around her. "Come on in."

"Thank you," she replied, following him inside.

"I've got breakfast in the other room, if you're hungry. I made pancakes and fried tomatoes." He'd foregone his normal bacon because he knew Hermione didn't like it.

"That sounds lovely, thanks."

They went to the kitchen and sat down. "Is your Mum here?"

"She's downstairs in the shop." Geoffrey stood, agitated. "Would you like some tea? Or coffee? I forgot to ask."

Hermione laughed, "Relax, Geoffrey! Yes, I would love some tea."

Geoffrey forced himself to take a deep breath as he fetched the tea tray. "Sorry, I'm not used to entertaining." _Especially not someone so important to me. _

"You're doing fine, really. Besides, it's just me, you don't need to go to any trouble," she assured him.

"It's no trouble," insisted Geoffrey, pouring the tea. "Milk?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "No sugar."

Geoffrey sat down again after handing Hermione her tea and fixing his own. "I thought we might help Mum for a little bit this morning, she's got a shipment coming in from France. But after that, we could go somewhere if you liked."

"That would be nice, the weather is supposed to be great today. It's not the least bit cloudy. Is there someplace nice to see around here? I don't know this part of the country well at all."

Geoffrey racked his brain. He'd never really done any sightseeing, though he knew that other people occasionally did. "I really don't know. We never really go anywhere… went anywhere, I mean."

"Let me see, the tourist centre in muggle Snape Village might have some ideas," suggested Hermione. At Geoffrey's blank look she explained, "Most towns have an office that tells visitors about all the area attractions. Snape Village probably has something like that."

"All right," agreed Geoffrey. It seemed as good a method as any of finding a place to go.

Snape Village did indeed have a small tourist centre and the portly lady who operated it seemed thrilled to have visitors. She recommended they visit Thornbury Park, which was well renowned throughout the county as simply the best place for a swim and a stroll. Geoffrey was a little disconcerted by the woman's not-so-subtle comments about young lovebirds, but Hermione since seemed to pay it no mind, he made no issue of it either.

After stopping back at home to retrieve the makings of a picnic and some swim clothes, the two made their way to the park. As they walked down the winding path around the lake, conversing easily about the goings-on of their last few days, Geoffrey felt a sense of peace and comfort like nothing he'd ever experienced. He always loved spending time with Hermione, but today was different. They were alone, in what some might consider a romantic setting, about to have a picnic. Geoffrey could almost convince himself they were having a _date_.

They settled down under a shady fig tree to have lunch. When they both reached for the basket of rolls at the same time, fingers touching, Hermione chuckled before retracting her hand. Geoffrey's breath caught from the unexpected contact. He wanted to take her hand in his own, bring it to his lips, turning it over to plant a kiss in the palm of her hand before trailing kisses all the way up her arm and gathering her close to him.

But instead, he merely handed Hermione a roll. "Ladies first."

Geoffrey's lascivious thoughts continued sporadically throughout their meal. He watched Hermione's lips circle the banana she was eating and in his mind's eye they were surrounding something very different entirely. When she leaned forward to pour another glass of water, Geoffrey couldn't help but stare down the front of her blouse as it drooped dangerously low over her small but shapely tits.

"Fancy a swim?" He asked when he realized that a dousing in cold water might be a good idea.

Hermione shook her head. "We can't yet. You should never swim right after eating; you might get a stomach cramp and drown. We need to wait at least an hour."

_Good lord_, thought Geoffrey. _I'll never make it. _

"I brought a book, we can read while we wait," suggested Hermione.

Geoffrey nodded, so Hermione retrieved the book from her bag. "This is one of my favourite novels. I reread it once every year or so. It's called Ivanhoe."

"What's it about?" asked Geoffrey.

"It takes place in the Middle Ages, during the Crusades. It's about a young knight who is disinherited by his father and forbidden to marry the woman he loves because she's been pledged to another. It's about a lot of other people as well, but you'll have to wait and see. I don't want to spoil the story for you," she grinned. "One of the things I love about this book though is how forward-thinking it was. It was written almost two hundred years ago, but the ideas in it are very modern."

"It sounds interesting," Geoffrey agreed. _The woman he loves pledged to another? Sounds familiar._

Hermione began to read. After a few minutes, Geoffrey lay down, flat on his back on the grass as he listened, hands crossed behind his head. The story _was_ engrossing, almost from the first. He grew angry for Isaac of York when he was mocked by his "hosts" simply because he was Jewish; Geoffrey thought all religions were equally silly so differentiating between them was a bit ridiculous. The bullies' insults reminded him of Potter's incessant taunts of "Snivellus" back in his own time. He grew angrier still when no one would lift a finger to help the gravely wounded Ivanhoe, not even his own family, and even a little annoyed at his 'beloved' Rowena, who supposedly loved him but would not oppose her guardian to help him. He liked Rebecca much better, Isaac's generous daughter who insisted they care for his wounds despite the laws forbidding contact between their cultures.

He found himself disappointed when Hermione closed the book. "That's enough for today. My throat's getting a bit dry, and we've waited long enough to have our swim now."

She stood, picking up her tote bag and looked around. "I'm going to change in those woods over there. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Geoffrey watched her walk away, his body reacting almost immediately to the knowledge that she'd be undressing so nearby. He knew she'd be gorgeous naked. Fuck, he needed a wank!

But now was not the time for such things. He shrugged out of his jeans and shirt, and pulled off his shoes and socks. He didn't actually own any swim trunks, so his boxers would have to do. They did little to hide his state of arousal though, so he held his towel in front of his hips while forcing himself to think of Professor McGonagall in her skivvies. Luckily for him, that very frightening thought did the trick.

Unfortunately, his victory was rather short lived; the sight of Hermione coming out of the forest in a simple, one-piece swimsuit quickly undid all his hard work. He'd only imagined some of the curves beneath her Hogwarts uniform, but the skin-tight swimsuit left little to the imagination. The swell of her hips, the pale skin of her thighs, and oh, the soft mounds of her tits peeking out the neckline were a vision he'd never forget. Her figure wasn't perfect by dirty magazine standards, but it tantalized him just the same. _Good thing he still held the towel. _He thought of his own scrawny, unimpressive physique in comparison. _At least he wasn't pallid anymore._

"Shall we?" asked Hermione, dropping her bag on the ground by the picnic basket.

_She probably had no idea what she was doing to him. _"Sure."

At first he walked a little behind her, but the clear view of her arse jiggling as she walked made his problem even more pronounced, so he sped up to walk directly alongside her. When they reached the edge of the lake, Geoffrey dropped his towel and ran quickly into the water in order to keep Hermione from seeing his erection. The water was frigid, and quickly cooled his ardour. "Fuck!"

Hermione laughed as she tiptoed slowly into the lake, inches at a time. "That's one way to do it! I can't bear to feel the cold all at once though. I'm just a big baby, I guess."

"I don't know," sputtered Geoffrey, "right about now I'm thinking you have the right idea. It's bloody cold!"

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it in a few minutes."

"Or freeze to death," he grumbled.

"You will NOT," giggled Hermione, taking another tiny step towards him.

Geoffrey snorted, "That's easy for you to say from all the way up there!"

"I'm coming, just taking my time acclimatising, is all," she insisted. She took another infinitesimal step toward him.

A wicked thought inspired Geoffrey. Without stopping to think about how Hermione might react, he scooped some water into his hands and splashed it right at her midsection. "Looks like you could use some help!"

Hermione gasped in shock, jumping back from the sudden barrage of icy water. "You… you…" she sputtered before bending forward to sent a retaliatory splash flying into Geoffrey's face, and then another.

Geoffrey hadn't closed his mouth quite quickly enough and found himself with a mouthful of fishy water. He, too, began to sputter as he spat it out, sending Hermione into a fit of laughter. Not content to let her win this bout, he scooped several more handfuls at various parts of her anatomy, noting with satisfaction how her nipples hardened from the touch of cold water through the swimsuit.

"This means war!" challenged Hermione as she finally jumped in herself, landing inches from Geoffrey and then, to his surprise, tickling his ribs under the water.

Geoffrey wasn't particularly ticklish, but he had a few sensitive spots. He tried to manoeuvre sideways to protect them, while simultaneously going in for the attack on Hermione's own ribs. Hermione giggled and twisted to avoid his counter-assault, which only egged him on further. As they lunged and parried they laughed harder, until a few moments later they found themselves in a strange tangle of arms, their torsos pressed closely together, their heads mere inches apart. Geoffrey's laughter ceased as he realized how provocative their current position was. She was looking up at him with an expression he couldn't quite interpret, but she looked so damned sexy! Her hair was dishevelled, dampened from the splashing, and her cheeks flushed, her lips lightly parted. Geoffrey didn't think; he just acted.

Geoffrey didn't think he was imagining her arms tightening around him as his lips touched hers, first lightly, and when she didn't pull away, with more fervour. Geoffrey had never kissed a girl before, so although he would wonder later if he had done it right, now he could only think of how good she felt in his arms and against his mouth.

But then, he felt her pull back from him. Startled, he immediately let go. While he was trying frantically to think of a way to explain why he'd done such a crazy thing, Hermione spoke. "It will be dark soon, we should probably pack up our things and head back."

She didn't sound particularly upset, but Geoffrey was suspicious nonetheless at the way she completely avoided the subject of the kiss that had completely knocked him for six. She was acting as if nothing had happened at all, making conversation about her charms studies during their walk home. Neither her words nor her demeanour gave any clue as to what she was thinking about the kiss. If she was thinking about it at all, that is.


End file.
